The Patchwork Fratello
by Prof. Voodoo
Summary: A stand alone story featuring characters from the Cyborg Central forum, as well as a few new faces.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

As he watched the tiny old woman struggle up the steps carrying her heavy shopping bags Nicco felt a pang of chivalrous duty that he knew had come courtesy of the Cervantes he had spent his morning studying. The thin young man in round glasses stood up from his seat on the crowded bus, with the noble intent of offering it to the elderly lady, who needed it far more than he.

The very instant he got up though, the seat was taken by another. Another man; as young as he if not younger, but built like a bull and presenting a menacing countenance to match sat with his arms crossed. Nicco's sense of indignation was palpable. "Now see here, signor!" he protested. The human bull just glared at him.

"You got up" replied the man in guttural tones that Nicco knew were meant to intimidate. It worked.

He gave a glance to the elderly lady, who looked on him with questioning, but not entirely hopeless eyes. Many years had passed since the last time a gentleman had taken up for her in public. Inspired by her eyes, those of the other passengers and the tragic courage of _Don Quixote_ Nicco pressed his objection. "I rose to offer my seat to this lady!"

Leaning forward, but not moving his ass an inch, the human bull growled "You don't say, eh? Maybe you should wait for another seat to open and offer her _that_ one." The color drained from Nicco as fast as his courage. The inspiring eyes of the other passengers abandoned him one by one, and even the old lady turned to look away with a snort once she realized how pathetic he was. The only one that still stared at Nicco was the bully, who gave him a smirk and crossed his bulging arms before leaning back in triumph and stretching his legs into the standing space of others.

Nicco could not stand being on that bus another minute...he hopped off at the very next stop, still blocks away from his destination. As the door closed he imagined he could hear laughter mocking his cowardice.

He hated himself.

**_Milton_**

As aconsequence of his humiliating episode on the city bus Nicolo Corelli was 7 minutes late for work. He tried to slip in unnoticed, but he was caught by a sharp glance from his weasel of a supervisor. Federuccio had gone to university with him, they had served an internship together, they had been assigned adjacent cubicles as lower level intelligence analysts, but 2 years into their tenure it was Fedo who got the promotion and not Nicco. During those two years spent suffering under the obstinate & demanding Office Supervisor, Lona Marchelli, they planned and dreamed together of how they would make their little corner of Public Safety a more efficient and better place to work. While it was a great disappointment to be passed over (Nicco quietly considered his work to be of higher quality than Fedo's) he was happy for his friend, knowing that with at least one of them beginning the march to the top things _must_ get better.

A year later, Ms. Marchelli was Station Chief and Fedo had gone from being one of her long-suffering lackeys to her personal ass kissing toady. As a supervisor he was worse than she had _ever_ been. While Lona had been a hard edged, procedural, unfeeling, bitch as Office Supervisor, Giani Federuccio was a manipulative backstabber who would do anything to make subordinates look bad and himself look good in front of the bosses. Already he had ducked into Lona's office to make his tattle-tale report that Mr. Corelli had arrived late for work _again_ (it didn't matter that this was the first time in over a year...Fedo always slipped in an _again_ to make the matter seem more important). _To hell with them both, anyway_. Nicco only needed his crappy job until his book on Dante Alighieri was finished...that would get his foot in the door for a research appointment at the Sapienza Università di Roma. That was his brass ring...his light at the end of this dreary tunnel of paperwork, bullshit and office treachery. Nicco turned on his hopelessly out of date Pentium 3 generation desktop and got to work.

A few hours later & just before lunch Nicolo's work was interrupted. "Hey Nicco, _amico_" said Fedo, popping his head into the bleak cubicle like he was telling some kind of secret. Fedo still called his former friend and current subordinate _buddy_ in spite of all his behavior to the contrary. "Listen, boss Lona wasn't too happy when she saw you sneak in late this morning, but don't worry, I smoothed it all over for you."

"_Grazie_" muttered Corelli, sickened by the churlishness. In rebellion he never looked up from his paperwork. _You were the one who __told__ her I was late, without ever asking me if there was a good reason._ Nicolo wasn't sure if his reason was good or not so he just kept his mouth shut.

"So since I pulled your fat out the fire maybe you could do me a little favor" suggested Fedo.

_"Jeeze, here it comes..." _ thought Nicco.

"We've got some big shots coming by this afternoon...some heavy hitter from Special Operations, we don't know who yet" the slimy supervisor told him, "They're gonna want to see all we have on the _Assassino D'Essai_, which isn't much, so maybe you could gather it all up and organize it for us? And spruce it up a bit too, you know all that fancy art gallery stuff better than anyone in the office...when the team looks good we all look good."

_"...and there goes my lunch hour_ ." Even though it was chilly outside Corelli had been looking forward to an hour in the Piazza di Spagna with his sandwich and his copy of _Paradise Lost_. It didn't seem to matter if it was a 130 kilo bully of the public bus or his own weasely ex-friend...Nicco was everyone's doormat.

"Oh, and, Nicco..." called out Federuccio as he left for his own lunch "...could you run the vacuum cleaner through this place and wipe down the coffee counter while you're at it? Thanks a bunch."

He hated his life.

The arrival of the Agency bigwig took Station Chief Marchelli & Office Supervisor Federuccio by surprise. From his cubicle Nicco saw a tall man in an impeccable suit enter. He had an angular face and dark hair, longer than most Agency men wore it. The guy also seemed kind of young to be a VIP...maybe mid to late 30's...Nicco guessed he was some kind of agent for Special Ops. There was someone behind him, someone short...over his wall Nicco could only see the top of a blonde head, capped off by two very strange..._pigtails?_

Corelli could have picked up his phone and warned either of the two supervisors that the guests had arrived but, "_screw them_" he decided. The dark haired man reached the door of Lona Marchelli's office and knocked before anyone knew he was there. From his prison-cell cubicle Nicco smiled as he watched his bitch of a chief bow and scrape before the mysterious VIP, snapping angrily at Fedo for not alerting her to their honored guest's arrival. When they all retired to Lona's office and the door closed behind them he returned to his work, sure that the single bright spot in his day had already passed.

About 10 minutes went by. "Milton, eh?" inquired an unexpected voice that made Nicco jump. "Sorry if I startled you...I hate it when people do that to me." It was the short woman with the blonde pigtails, except that she wasn't a woman, she was just a kid, no more than 14 if she was a day. She ran a leather gloved finger across the cover of his paperback volume. "My supervisor has me reading Milton lately. Not _Paradise Lost_ yet...that's a little heavy for me, but I've been studying his poetry. _L' Allegro...Il Penseroso_...you know the stuff."

Nicco wasn't sure what to say to this kid. "I do know the stuff, and that's very impressive for a girl your age" he complimented her, hoping he wouldn't sound like a boring, patronizing _grown-up_ and put her off John Milton for life. "Are you reading him in Italian or the original English?"

"Italian" she confessed with a little blush, "I speak a little English but I'm not very proficient yet. I speak French & German fluently though."

She was a really surprising kid...educated, poised, outgoing, and very pretty. Exactly the type of girl who had never given Nicolo a second glance back when he was her age. Her clothes were nice but a little odd for a kid so young, it seemed like she picked them out to match the dark haired man she traveled with (_was this the "supervisor" who directed her reading choices?)_ "So how do you like it? The Milton I mean."

"It's okay I guess...it makes my supervisor happy" she answered with a far off look in her blue eyes. The girl pivoted a little on her heel and leaned back, half sitting on Nicco's desk. She'd already been smiling in a pleasant way that one might expect during friendly conversation with a stranger, but when she mentioned her supervisor being pleased with her it changed to one of wistful happiness. As she talked, Nicco wondered what she meant by _supervisor_. This girl was barely a teenager and a young one at that; surely she did not have a role at the Agency. All those questions would have to remain mysteries though, because Marchelli's office door swung open and the dark haired man strode out holding the folder Nicco had put together over his lost lunch hour. Lona & Fedo followed as close as they could without _literally_ kissing his ass.

"Triela, we're going..." announced the man, but then he noticed her leaning on Corelli's desk "...I hope she wasn't bothering you."

"We had a very nice conversation about John Milton" Nicco replied.

"Good" the man said, which made the girlsmile, "I hope you taught her something." The smile was replaced by an annoyed snort and she walked out first, blocking the doorway until she had consciously checked in both directions, and finally allowing her grown companion to exit. Nicolo thought that was odd...in fact he thought the whole visit was odd, but in this type of work you saw a lot of odd things and not asking questions was how you ensured a continuing paycheck.

Fedo leaned over the cubicle wall and said "Thanks for babysitting while the grown-ups talked. Listen, Lona & I are gonna cut out early and inspect some of those galleries the guy was asking about so could you lock up when you leave?" Nicco growled under his breath...that meant he had to stay late until all the other analysts had finished their work.

He hated his job.

**_The Report_**

"To be honest I'm impressed" muttered Chief Lorenzo, as he thumbed through the file that Hillshire had brought back from the Public Safety branch office in downtown Rome. "You told me not to expect much from this report, but it's insightful, well footnoted, has some creative interpretations of the evidence." He handed it to Jean and added "It's possibly the best information we've got on the Assassino D'Essai so far. I think you may have underestimated this Lona Marchelli of yours."

"I doubt it" muttered Reschiglian, "believe me when I tell you Ms. Marchelli is a bigger robot than those cyborgs you use. The woman does not have a shred of insight that doesn't come directly from the handbook. Her second in command I've never met, but by all accounts he's a talentless boot-lick."

Lorenzo tried to find a weak spot in the Public Safety Director's opinion, "You didn't like Rissi here, and he's worked out splendidly for us..."

"I never said I didn't like Alessandro" corrected Reschiglian, "he's an excellent agent. What I didn't like was getting punched in the face by him. I'd say that's more personal distaste than professional."

Alessandro was obnoxiously looking over Jean's shoulder, reading the report while it still lay in his hands. Croce gritted his teeth but said nothing. "You know, I gotta agree with dickless this one time" Sandro contributed, "Lona could not have written this report."

"Is that true?" mused Lorenzo.

"The part about Reschiglian having no dick?" Sandro replied, "Yes, that's true."

Jean finally growled "Rissi, if you don't have anything productive to say shut the fuck up."

Alessandro was cocky and uncowed by the cranky Field Commander, but he did finally get serious. "What I mean is...this document is filled with deep insight about art & literature, to be honest most of it's way above my head. Lona doesn't know a damn thing about that stuff. Her apartment is filled with pictures of cats and those horrid little Hummel figurines."

Reschigilan was puzzled. "How do you know what her apartment...oh, _Jesus_, Rissi, did you sleep with _her_ too?"

"It was for the job...I needed information!"

"Like what? The color of her underwear?"

"_Gentlemen__!_" snapped Lorenzo, before a fist-fight broke out between the Director of Public Safety and one of his own handlers. "This is not a productive area of discussion, so I'm going to ask you to cut the crap, both of you!" Pieri Lorenzo held no official rank over Reschiglian, but age gave him a natural air of authority. Jean had said nothing during the outburst between the 2 men, but he had quietly moved into the perfect position to separate them if the blows started flying.

Hillshire was sitting in a chair across the room, and had been so silent thus far that the others had almost forgotten he was there. "Now that I think about it" he recalled, "Triela spoke to some analyst about John Milton, the English poet from the 17th century."

"Did you happen to catch his name, Victor?" asked Jean, showing civility to Hillshire as a snide way of snubbing Alessandro, who was annoying him more than usual today. He passed the report to him in the hopes that the well educated German could make better sense of it than a bunch of spies and ex-military police.

"No," sighed Hillshire, "maybe Triela did. He was a pretty plain looking young man...thin, round glasses...looked like the kind of fellow you'd cast in a movie to be the librarian."

"Do you think you could recognize him?" Reschiglian suggested. He hopped up from his seat and motioned toward Lorenzo's laptop computer. The Section Two Chief rotated it toward him to imply his consent, "This thing is on our secure network, right?" he asked, but assumed the answer and began calling up Public Safety personnel records. "Here's the whole staff at that branch office..."

Victor got up and scanned through dossiers of all the Public Safety analysts. It took a few minutes, none of the portraits (scanned from their identification cards) were very good, and blown up on Lorenzo's screen they looked blocky & pixilated. "This could be him" Hillshire finally decided, reading the name aloud "Nicolo Corelli...pretty basic education at a public university, majored in data management but he did have a minor in classical literature."

Lorenzo reclaimed his computer by sliding it back in front of himself. "I'll e-mail this dossier to our intel guru and have her dig up all she can on your librarian. Jean, once Priscilla finishes her report, and if it still seems like a good idea, send your brother to bring him in, this guy might respond better to a soft touch. Victor, I'd like you to stay out of sight until we know if we want to use Corelli...he's already seen you and Triela after all."

"We have a plan...good," agreed Reschiglian with a nod, "please keep me informed of any progress you make."

As the informal meeting adjourned Rissi could not resist one last opportunity to shake the cage of his former boss. "So, been a long time since we've been on a case together," he said facetiously, "you...wanna grab a beer after work?"

Reschiglian gave him a scowl that would melt glass and walked out.

_**_Into the Rabbit Hole_**

After another miserable morning in the office Nicco actually got to take his lunch hour today. Together with John Milton and his paper sack lunch he found an empty bench in the Piazza and looked forward to 45 minutes of blissful _escape_. Unfortunately he only got to read in peace for 10 minutes though before vexing annoyance crept into his bubble of solitude.

A man in a short jacket sat right down on the bench with him. _"What the fuck?"_ Nicolo thought_ "There are plenty of empty benches."_ An instant later a little girl with short brown hair & wearing an expensive looking red coat sat down on the other side of him. "I'm sorry" said Corelli, hiding his annoyance, "I can move so you can sit together..."

"Oh no, don't let us disturb you." replied the stranger, with a friendly smile, but then he continued to disturb. "Milton, eh? Very high-brow stuff for a lunch break."

_"Only if you're a fucking idiot"_ Nicco thought, but then he felt ashamed of his anti-social attitude. _"I should feel __happy__ when people show an interest in good literature."_ Corelli carefully placed his bookmark and replied "Yes, I guess it might be considered so, but if you had a job like mine you'd look forward to a little escape every noon-time."

"A job like yours..." muttered the black-haired man with a little chuckle. Nicco did not know what was funny about the comment, but the little girl giggled a bit too. He turned to look at her; perhaps 10 years old, smiling and looking at him with big brown eyes that reminded him of...that other kid who had visited the office & spoken to him about John Milton yesterday. _What is it about little girls this week?_

"I try to read books without pictures, but sometimes they're really hard!" chirped the girl, in a voice that Nicco thought had a little too much artificial sweetness forced into it.

He motioned to the violin case across her lap. "Well, it looks to me as if you like to take on difficult challenges." The girl shot her adult companion a glance of alarm when he said that...as if Nicco had discovered a secret she was keeping. "I mean, the violin is a difficult instrument to learn at any age. An _Amati_ eh? May I see it?"

She squirmed uncomfortably on the bench and clutched her case tightly. "I'm sorry," she replied, "my brother says opening the case outside on such a damp day could warp the wood."

"I see, very smart" Nicolo directed his comment at _big-brother_.

The dark haired man replied "She's rather good; maybe you'll get to hear her play sometime...soon." Nicolo was instantly on alert. At that second he realized this was _no chance meeting_. Every instinct told him it had to do with the VIP who had visited his office yesterday, and the mysterious girl he had in tow. It all fit together...none of these things could be mere coincidence.

The girl still seemed nervous and distracted, so her older brother pulled out his wallet and handed her a 20 euro bill. "Why don't you go get us some gelato, Henrietta?"

That perked her right up. "Really, Giuse?" she asked excitedly. _In the Piazza di Spagna no less!_ This wasn't even what she would consider a "real mission" but he was already giving her a reward...ice cream beforelunch, _Giuse is being really nice today!_ "What flavor do you like, Sir?" she asked, eager to see her good fortune spill over to their new friend.

"Oh, don't worry about me!" Corelli answered, lifting his sandwich. He felt embarrassed to tell them he was lactose intolerant. Henrietta apparently knew what her brother liked already so she dashed off, dutifully carrying her violin case with her.

Now that Nicco was alone with the man a creeping fear set in. As long as the little sister had been with them he was reasonably confident that this guy wasn't going to put a bullet in him. Isolated now, he was not so sure. "I thought she'd leave the violin behind when you suggested ice cream...she's very responsible" he tried to make small talk.

"Fast too" replied the man named Giuse, "and that line isn't very long in this cold. We don't have much time before she gets back." He shifted on the bench, leaning closer to Nicco. "Lona Marchelli did not produce that write-up on the Assassino D'Essai did she?"

"Ummm, all reports are a collaborative effort, Ms. Marchelli is the Station Chief..." he didn't know how to answer.

"I'm not interested in how humble you can act" growled Giuse, "I told you we don't have much time. You're the only one in that office that has studied classical literature as well as that of the renaissance. Your articles have been published in the academic journals...it's clear to us that you have the background to draw the conclusions generated in that report. I have to know...are you the real author?"

"Yes" answered Nicolo quickly, wondering if the truth would earn him a bullet in the skull. Was this guy the killer? Despite the damp cold he began to feel very hot, and had to unbutton his wool coat. _There are certainly worse places to die than the Piazza._

Noting his discomfiture the intimidating man backed off a bit. "Relax Mr. Corelli. I'm with the Agency of course, Special Operations Section 2. We've just become involved in the investigation and your report is the most informative thing we have read so far."

"Really?" Nicco's eyebrows raised, and he seemed to forget that only seconds ago he had been facing his last day on earth. Praise was such a rare thing to him that he didn't know how to accept it. "I didn't even have access to the real evidence...crime scene photos...forensics."

Giuseppe waved his hand dismissively "We've got the best men in Italy looking at that stuff and they're stuck without a clue. Our target has killed 4 members of SISDE so far, 3 from Public Safety plus an agent from SpecOps Section One...all inside museums and art galleries. You, Mr. Corelli, are the only person who has identified a pattern in the nature of the art in those galleries. We'd really love to make you a member of our task force..._Agent_ Corelli." Giuse tried to appeal to Nicco's sense of grandeur, but the title actually terrified him. _Agents_ got shot at in modern Italy.

"Is this the kind of thing I actually have a choice about?" he replied.

Giuse shrugged his shoulders. "I don't exactly know, but I'm guessing you don't. Personally, I won't do a thing if you refuse, but I can't promise that you won't get a second visit from Section 2. Some of my colleagues are less...well, let's just say they don't stop for ice cream while on a mission." His analogy was well timed, as Henrietta scampered up and handed him a cone with a double scoop of vanilla & chocolate. Her own consisted of spumoni on top of strawberry. Giuse wrinkled his brow a little and gave a disapproving smirk as he regarded the _double_ scoop, but his little sister just giggled & gave a sneaky smile as if she had gotten away with something bad. "Before lunch?" he grumbled unconvincingly "You'd _better_ finish your vegetables today."

Henrietta licked her cone (The first lick was an important gesture in her mind, now it was incontestably _hers_) and asked "So Mr. Corelli, are you coming with us?"

"Even she knows my name?" Nicco muttered. _Curiouser & curiouser._ Giuse did not answer his question, he was more interested in Henrietta's. "I guess I am, miss. I'll have to notify my office that I'll be late getting back from lunch."

"Why?" scoffed Giuse, "Lona Marchelli stole your report and put _her_ name on it. My colleague who visited your office yesterday says she took full credit...no mention of any _collaborative effort_. Forget her." He quickly tapped out a text message on his mobile phone. "In fact..." he chuckled "...in a few minutes Director Reschiglian will telephone Ms. Marchelli to tell her that you've been transferred from her office in order that high command may make better use of your extraordinary talents."

"Oh man!" laughed Nicolo, beginning to like this _agent_ stuff, "That'll scare the pants off her!"

Henrietta gave her ice cream cone a big lick and chirped "Welcome to Special Operations, Mister Corelli!"

After that the trio spoke little about the case. The fratello finished their _gelato_ while Nicco ate his lunch and spoke expertly about the sculptures & fresco's around the Piazza. Henrietta was surprised & a little bit uncomfortable that he seemed to know more than Giuseppe. _But Giuse knows everything..._

They walked a few blocks to where Giuse had parked the car. "Nice!" exclaimed Corelli as he admired the brilliant silver Mercedes CL.

"Borrowed it from my older brother" admitted Giuseppe. Nicco thought it was odd that he did not say _our_ brother in front of his sister. Wasn't he her brother too? Maybe they had different fathers. "I own a little 2 seater, so we swapped cars for the day."

"Giuseppe drives a _Porsche_" boasted a blushing Henrietta.

"I ride the bus" muttered Nicco. _Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, Amati violins & tailored suits...no wonder my office can't get toner cartridges for the photocopier._ He got into the front passenger seat.

Outside the car Giuse walked around to flip the drivers' side seat forward for his _little sister_. "What do you think of him?" he asked.

"I got kinda scared when he asked about my weapons case" she whispered, "like he _knew_ it wasn't a violin inside."

"Nothing to worry about, he'll know everything soon." Giuse assured her.

She seemed relieved that he didn't consider it important, and continued "I like him...he's really nice and smart about things like the statues around the piazza...and he didn't mess up my hair like other people we work with!"

"You mean like _this_?" he joked, reaching down and playfully mussing her hair as 'Etta gave a startled yelp of protest.

**_Special Operations_ **

Giuse pulled his brother's Mercedes up to the gate of the SWA compound, and flashed his identification. Henrietta did not bother to produce hers, she just waved and smiled...the guard knew her well. "What about him?" growled the man as he looked at Nicco sitting in the passenger seat. Corelli pulled out his Public Safety analyst ID and handed it across to the guard, who didn't even bother taking it. Nicco had thought his government credentials would be enough to at least get through the gate. "Are you kidding me?" the guard scoffed.

"He's with me" said Croce, "check the visitor's list. It's authorized by Section 2 Director Lorenzo." The guard complied, but it still took all of five minutes and a thumb print scan of Nicolo before he waved the silver Benz through.

To Nicco's eyes the Special Operations compound was a world away from his stuffy cubicle. It had vast manicured lawns, landscaped foot-paths through wooded groves, and a long row of expertly pruned trees lining the road on either side. By contrast, the office complex where they eventually parked was more familiar...more of an austere governmental block than something one would expect in this garden setting. By the time the 3 got out of the car Corelli was not sure what to expect.

"You can go back to the dorm now Henrietta" instructed Croce. He looked at his watch and added "You still have time to catch lunch at the dining hall before afternoon training."

Nicco observed a look of genuine dismay and concern on the young girl's face "But what about you Giuse?" she asked.

"I have to present Mr. Corelli to Chief Lorenzo" he replied, "Don't worry about me...I'll grab something at the canteen later. After lunch you've got rifle practice at the outdoor range. _Maggiore_ Mancini is the range officer today, give him my note and he'll get you set up." With an obedient nod, Henrietta scurried off, still carrying her violin case.

"That kid does rifle practice?" asked Nicco, unable to contain his surprise.

Giuseppe nodded, and replied "I understand this is all confusing, but it will make more sense in just a little while. Come this way and I'll show you to the Section Chief."

Niccolo Corelli tried to take in as much information as he could as he walked 1 step behind his guide. They made their way up one set of stairs, and down a carpeted hallway. Each of the doors, some open, some closed, had a single name placard on them. Peeking inside one Nicco saw a man about his age, but blonde & much more heavily built, looking at a computer screen with a red-headed girl of about 16. In another room, a single dark haired girl, about 13 years of age in Nicco's estimation (he only saw her from behind), lay on her stomach reading a book...her shoeless feet idly knocking together as she read.

Giuse noticed his puzzled look. "This is the handler's floor. Common work areas, the mission planning room, and a canteen are downstairs. All of us have beds in our offices...or an office in our room as some prefer to look at it. They come in handy when you're the alert team, or when you just have to stay late. Here's mine...feel free to look around." He opened his own door and dropped off the briefcase he carried. Next he pulled a Sig-Sauer pistol from under his jacket and locked it away in a desk drawer.

Croce's room was dark, with a flat-screen television at the foot of the bed. There were shelves of books & a fish-tank next to a ship in a bottle, which sat on his L-shaped desk. A far cry from the cubicle Nicolo worked in. After Giuse dropped a few flakes into the aquarium he turned to Nicco and said "All done, let's go see the Chief."

They had to go up one more flight of stairs, to another hallway full of offices. A short haired woman in a sharply cut business suit nodded courteously at Giuse & his guest, but said nothing. On this floor Nicco only saw one name on a closed door; "Jean Croce." He wondered if Giuseppe's father or uncle worked here as well.

Finally, they reached the office of the boss, at the end of the hall. There was no name on this door. Giuseppe paused, and knocked before entering. The door was opened by a silent blonde girl in a maid's outfit who bowed and left immediately. "Signor Corelli..." greeted a grey haired man, perhaps in his late 50's. He wore a tweed sport-coat over a turtleneck shirt, and rose to shake the new arrival's hand. Standing behind him was a grim looking blonde man, who did not shake hands. "...welcome to Section 2, we've been reading your report on the art-house killer with great interest. Please have a seat, we don't have much time I'm afraid."

Nicco & Giuse both sat down in very expensive looking chairs, but the blonde man never moved. Chief Lorenzo spoke first; "We have a lot of questions for you, but in fairness, you probably have even more for us. First let me introduce our Field Commander, Jean Croce...and you're already acquainted with his brother Giuseppe." That answered one of Nicco's questions. The blonde man finally leaned forward to shake hands with a powerful grip. The Chief continued, "Jean will be your direct supervisor when you start working for us, but for now, I promised to answer your questions."

Corelli wanted desperately to make a good first impression, but he fumbled his opportunity badly, "Eh...well...ummm...Sir...I'm not sure exactly where to start."

"How about with the most obvious question:" replied the Section Chief, a touch of amusement showing in his voice, "_What's with all the little girls...and why are they carrying guns?_"

"Yes Sir...that would be a good place to start" muttered Nicco, blushing at his own awkwardness.

Lorenzo lit his pipe and began to explain; "Over the last few years, our nation has been catapulted to the fore-front of medical technology. This is due in large part to the public work of the Social Welfare Agency. As an employee of Public Safety you already know the SWA is not all it seems. Here is the truth Mr. Corelli; Special Operations utilizes the children you have seen for counter-terrorism operations. They are a combination of human and machine, cybernetically enhanced to meet our needs. These girls are stronger, faster, and have greater endurance than even Olympic level athletes. In addition they can suffer multiple injuries, even gunshot wounds, without losing effectiveness. They are a secret, but very valuable tool for the security of Italia."

"I see" replied Corelli. All 3 men were shocked at his relaxed reaction.

Puzzled, Jean finally spoke up; "You don't seem at all surprised by this?"

"It's shocking, of course" Nicolo explained, "but I knew it had to be _something_ like that. The way that blonde girl checked the door before allowing her supervisor to exit my office...Henrietta's protectiveness about her violin case, it has a gun inside, right?"

"Eh...yes" admitted Giuseppe.

Feeling a bit more confident, Nicco continued; "I had no idea the girls were artificial, but I'd gathered they were not normal."

"I see" muttered the Chief, impressed by Nicolo's observational skill, "Artificial may not be the right word to describe them. With Henrietta & indeed _all_ the cyborgs it's important to remember that while the girl has a mechanical body, she is still an adolescent child."

Corelli nodded, remembering how enthusiastic Henrietta had been about her gelato. "I'm still not sure how this effects me though. What help can a simple analyst from Public Safety provide a Special Ops unit like yours?"

"It was the report that you made up for our man Hillshire" answered Lorenzo, "all of SISDE is on high alert because 4 of our agents have been murdered by the same assassin in only 2 months. Italy's best detectives are on his trail, but you managed to come up with a new outlook on the case. We'd like your help, Mr. Corelli. The reason you are here is that Special Ops offers the best chance of protecting you if you become the killer's next target. As for our _friends_ at Section One...well, we just found you first, so we get first dibs on having you on the team." Corelli let that sink in for a few seconds. He had never been chosen first for any team in his whole life, but there was little time for pride now. The other part of Chief Lorenzo's speech grabbed his attention more.

The thought of becoming the next target of the Assassino D'Essai made Nicco nauseous with fear, but he tried not to let it show. "Do you really think...?"

"Mr. Corelli...Nicolo if I may call you that...the moment you produced that report you placed yourself on the list of possible targets," explained Jean "There are several copies floating around Public Safety right now, and since all 4 of our victims were SISDE members we can not ignore the possibility that the killer is already aware of your work. The safest thing for you is to accept our protection and work with us to bring this matter to an end in an expeditious manner, do you agree?" Put on the spot, Nicco could only nod his head. "Good" concluded Jean.

There was a knock at the door. The Chief called that it was okay to come in, and a perky woman wearing casual clothes and a dangling necklace poked her head in. "Chief Lorenzo, Sir, your conference call with the _Senatore a Vita_ begins in 5 minutes."

"I apologize for the interruption Nicolo" said Lorenzo, "but the issue of the murderer is not our only business. We will discuss this matter later today, but in the mean time I have arranged for Priscilla here to show you around the compound. She will answer any further questions you may have about Section 2."

The woman, who was only a few years older than Nicco grabbed him by the arm informally and chirped "Come on...I'll give you the grand tour." Corelli was pulled along by the friendly, and quite attractive woman.

Outside waited a Kawasaki Mule utility vehicle. Priscilla hopped up into the driver's seat and motioned for Nicco to take the position next to her. She did not fasten her seat-belt, but Nicco did, and was happy he had once she began driving down the pathways at what seemed like a ludicrous pace. The woman spent only about 10% of her time with both hands on the wheel. The rest of the time she was waving at the various persons they passed, pointing them out to Nicco and attaching names he was sure he'd never remember. They passed a man in his early 40's, waxing a Ferrari with a girl who looked oriental. Driving in the opposite direction was another Kawasaki utility vehicle, this one bright blue and adorned with a wild array of religious tokens. From the driver's seat a smiling middle-eastern man waved back. Riding in the trailer amongst gardening tools was the dark haired girl Nicco had seen reading earlier. It seemed odd to him that a mechanical girl would need glasses, but she wore them.

They went out to the shooting range, where Corelli saw the odd sight of several young girls firing rounds into cardboard targets down-range. He recognized one as Henrietta, the girl he'd met earlier. She turned and waved, earning herself a sharp rebuke from the officer supervising the range, a well groomed man who moved with a great deal of military bearing; he admonished the girl to keep her rifle pointed down-range at all times. Next was the obstacle course, the hospital, and the monastery. "And this is the cyborg dorm..." pointed out Priscilla, slowing down some. An impromptu football game was going on, with an uneven number of players on the sides. At the base of the 3 story building was gathered a small crowd of girls, staring up at the sky. Curiously, Nicco bent his neck to see what they were looking at, just in time to witness a young girl with red pigtails leap off the roof, holding a bed sheet as a parachute. It did not slow her down one bit, and to Corelli's dismay she crashed hard into the hedges below. Nobody else seemed concerned, in fact the other girls were applauding. When the same sharply dressed woman Nicco had seen earlier came stomping over the audience scattered, leaving the red-headed girl to suffer the full brunt of her vituperative scolding. "That's just Ferro...you'll get used to her" laughed Priscilla, stopping the Mule.

"The woman or the kid who just jumped off the roof?" Nicco muttered, astonished that the girl showed no ill effects from her 3 story fall.

"Oh, the woman" Priscilla clarified, and added awkwardly "The cyborg is Marisa...you'll probably _never_ get used to her."

They both hopped out of the vehicle and Priscilla continued to attach names to persons, both human & cyborg. McDonnell...Ilaria...Allison...Chiara...Nihad...Rico...Giada...Alphonso...Melanie, _I'll never remember half these names_. Corelli's attention was drawn by a frantic warning to _look out_! From the corner of his eye he saw a short blonde girl deliver a wild kick to the soccer ball, sending it on a high, slow arc, well out of bounds.

"Careful Nicco!" warned Priscilla.

Seeing an opportunity to prove he was not a complete sissy, Nicolo lined up under the ball. "I've got this...I used to play mid-field back on my school team." He braced to send the ball pack into play with the perfect header.

"NO! Mr. Corelli!" shouted his escort, accompanied by a few screams from the nearby girls, but Nicco leapt up to meet the football with his forehead.

And then the world went black.

**END OF FIRST CHAPTER**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

With a splitting headache and a dry mouth, Nicco woke up to realize he was in a hospital. As the room came into focus he recognized Jean Croce standing at his bed-side, with a scowl on his face. The grim Field Commander did not ask if he felt alright. "Mr. Corelli," he growled "the cyborgs have physical abilities far beyond our own. If they were to use a normal football they would need a field 2 kilometers long. Therefore, they play with a 5 kilogram medicine ball. Do you now understand why Priscilla warned you to be careful?"

"Ugh...yes...yes I do" muttered Nicco, realizing he was wearing a collar around his neck. Standing next to Jean was the same short-haired girl who had chipped the 5kg football toward him, wearing a crimson face and a broad frown.

Croce shoved her forward and said in the same low growl "Rico has something to tell you."

"I'm sorry for breaking your neck Mr. Corelli" she whimpered.

"No...no it was my fault" replied Nicco, struggling to sit up in the bed.

The girl looked confused and answered "But Jean told me it was my fault for not being careful."

"It was an accident" Nicco tried to console the girl, "it was my fault for not listening to Priscilla."

She looked at him with bewilderment and argued "Jean said it was my fault and if Jean said it, it must be true!"

Croce pulled her back by the collar and ordered, "Rico, you can go now." She smiled again, and left the room.

"Oh god I have a lot to learn about cyborgs..." groaned Nicco.

Jean nodded. "It appears you do. We have been discussing your case while you were...incapacitated...and we feel you are a bigger danger to yourself than the murderer is."

_Jeeze, this guy doesn't mince words_, thought Corelli. "You're probably right. Is my neck really broken?"

"No...just a concussion. The collar is only a precaution." Croce handed Corelli his own chart and said "The doctor will be in to release you in a few minutes, and then we will return to Chief Lorenzo's office."

Having dispensed with the neck support collar, Nicco was discharged. Once again he was shuttled around the compound in a Kawasaki utility vehicle, this time driven by Jean, who said nothing for the entire drive. Nicco did not feel like talking anyway; after the medicine ball incident he seriously wondered if he was in over his head. _This morning I went to work as a simple data analyst, miserable at my job, but relatively safe nonetheless. By 4 o'clock in the afternoon I was lying in a hospital bed as a result of a kids' football game, and now I'm supposed to join a task force charged with tracking down a murderer? A murderer who had already killed 4 trained agents...including one from Special Operations?_ "Mr. Croce...I don't think I'm...I mean, I think this could possibly be a mistake, placing me on your task force."

"Oh, I agree with you completely," muttered Jean, rolling up in front of the office building, "but it's out of our hands now. You are in no position to just walk away now. As the Section Chief said, the Assassino D'Essai is probably a member of the Italian intelligence community, and likely has access to your report, and your name. Do you actually want to go home and wait for him to find you?"

Nicco felt like an incredible coward, but he replied "I...I could go to my sister's house in Potenza...he wouldn't find me there."

"Brilliant move, idiot" snapped Croce, "then your sister, her husband Greggorio, and their 2 children Dominico & Silvia ages 7 & 5 can all be murdered too. How long do you think it took our intelligence analyst to get their names and address? She did it before she took you on the tour of the compound...yes, if that flake Priscilla can track down your loved ones in 5 minutes the murderer _already_ knows where they are."

"My god..." muttered Corelli, feeling as if all the air had been knocked out of him.

Jean got out of his seat and added "Relax...we have Carabinieri watching her house, as well as that of your parents in Rome. Your relatives are as safe as we can make them & the best thing you can do...the _only_ thing, is help us catch this _bastardo_ as quickly as we can. You might want to avoid soccer games as well."

**_Dario_**

A few handlers sat around discussing the _Nicolo Corelli_ situation with their Chief. "Well, he's certainly no agent, and it would take at least a year to make him into one" groaned Alessandro.

Michele Pagani shook his head "Kara told me what she heard from the other cyborgs: Did he really try to bounce a medicine ball off his head?"

"He thought it was an ordinary football" sighed Giuseppe, "dumb bastard."

The Section Chief got them back on track; "Gentlemen, he may be a fool by our set of standards, and a danger to himself by any measure, but Corelli is a member of our team now and we need to keep him safe. Since it's unrealistic to keep him locked up here on compound, I think the easiest thing to do is give him a bodyguard."

"You're talking about a cyborg, sir?" muttered Rissi, "Begging your pardon, but are we really going to make a €150 million investment in _one_ murder case? This guy isn't going to stay with Section 2 after we catch the killer...is he?"

"Maybe...if he lives" sighed Lorenzo, "it's too early to decide. But getting back to the point, I'm not proposing giving him a new cyborg. We currently have 3 cyborgs that have lost their handlers."

Pagani's eyebrows rose. "Well, we can't give him Donatello, she's still a basket-case in the hospital. That leaves Dario & Claes." He secretly hoped it wouldn't be Claes...Michele liked taking her along to help out on jobs with Kara, and didn't want to lose his _second cyborg_.

"I don't like the idea of sending Claes out solo" agreed Giuseppe. "She's dangerously non-violent, and could freeze in a critical situation. Of course, that leaves another problem child."

"Dario has had long enough to grieve," said Lorenzo, "it was never our intention to let a cyborg idle around her room indefinitely. It's time she got back into action. Elio, I'd like you to assist Corelli on his first few outings with her. Give him the crash course in dealing with a difficult cyborg." The gray-bearded man nodded in assent.

With a knock Jean Croce announced himself, and led Nicco in. "Have a seat Nicolo" invited the Chief, "we've just now been discussing your case."

"Chief, sir...I have a lot of doubts...I am _not_ a trained agent."

"That is obvious" growled Jean, but he was silenced by a sharp look from the other handlers.

Lorenzo leaned forward to explain his plan; "That is why we're going to assign a cyborg to you, as an assistant & bodyguard. These girls are imprinted when they leave the production wing, conditioned to obey and protect their agent...even to the death. Unfortunately, we have a small handful of cyborgs that have lost their partners for various reasons, and we're giving you one of them." He pressed an intercom button on his desk and called "Will you please send Triela in?" Turning back to the other men Lorenzo continued; "She won't be attached to you as strongly as she was to her original master, but she will be conditioned to protect & obey you. The extent to which she becomes emotionally attached is entirely up to the two of you."

A blonde girl that Nicco recognized popped into the office. "You called for me, sir?" She noticed Corelli next and smiled "Hey...Milton! How ya doing?"

Confused, Lorenzo corrected her; "Triela, this is Signor Nicolo Corelli, he will be assisting us during the investigation of the Assassino D'Essai murders."

"It's okay sir," chuckled Nicco (the first time he'd laughed since coming to the compound), "I met Triela a few days ago, we discussed John Milton, the English poet." He _really_ hoped he would be working with this bright girl whom he had spoken with at the office.

The boss nodded. "I see. Triela, will you go to the dormitory and get Dario? Tell her she'll need an overnight bag & bring her here."

The girl cast her eyes down and searched for an excuse to beg out of a detail she did not desire. The folder in her hands provided a possible escape. "Sir...I'm kind of busy doing these translation corrections for Mr. Hillshire. They have to be done before 6pm, or..."

The gray bearded man whose name Nicolo had not caught yet snapped his fingers twice, and with a flick of his fingers summoned her to where he sat. Triela delivered the folder into his open hand. "Thanks Mr. Alboreto. But Chief Lorenzo, sir...Dario isn't going to like this, she's still really..."

"Triela," growled Alboreto softly, "the Chief gave you an order. If Dario refuses, tell her_ I_ am coming next." Never once did his volume rise above normal conversational tones.

"Yes sir" replied the girl, a little intimidated by his rumbling voice, but relieved to be carrying the promise of backup. She gave the men a nod and hurried out of the office.

"Interesting..." commented Nicco, "are you some kind of cyborg _handler_ or something?"

They all laughed. "Only in the sense that all of us are, yourself included once you meet Dario" answered Elio, "I just have a..._reputation_...as one who doesn't accept much nonsense from the girls."

Chief Lorenzo spoke up with a chuckle; "Elio here is the only handler to have ever washed a back-talking cyborg's mouth out with soap." All the other handlers joined him in laughing, but Nicco thought that sounded awful.

"Your cyborg must have hated that" he replied.

"It wasn't even _my_ cyborg" corrected Alboreto, managing to sound humorous & ominous at the same time.

Grinning, Pagani shook his head and asked "Are you ever gonna tell us which girl it was?"

"No," answered the older man, "it was between she & I alone, and I consider the matter closed. I haven't had any issues with her since that day." He took on a more serious tone and explained "You might have a few difficulties with Dario though. Since she lost her handler she's been surly, moody, and generally difficult to deal with. Even her room-mate moved out because she couldn't stand living with her. Perhaps we failed in not cracking down on such behavior sooner, but our staff psychiatric doctor advised us to _give her space_. Sorry to dump her in your lap, but Dario's really our only option. The other handlers will be available to help."

Lorenzo added "We'll be sending Elio out with you on your first few off-compound excursions. He's our resident expert on dealing with a difficult cyborg." Again, all the handlers laughed.

"So you'll be taking Dario & Marisa out on the town at the same time?" teased Alessandro, "You're crazier than everyone already thinks you are."

"Just Dario for the first day" replied Alboreto, "I may be daft, but I'm not stupid."

Eager to make conversation with the more experienced men, Nicco commented "I think I saw this _Marisa_ earlier. She's the one who jumped off the dormitory roof."

"She did what?" growled Alboreto with utter seriousness, making Nicco regret he had even opened his mouth. Again the handlers laughed, but this time Alboreto did not join in with them.

Luckily, they were interrupted by the arrival of Triela & Dario. It seemed as if the two had been arguing all the way up to the door, but the instant they set foot in their Section Commander's office both girls hushed themselves quickly. Nicolo Corelli got his first look at the cyborg who would be his bodyguard. She stood a few centimeters shorter than Triela, and looked to be about 13 years old. Hanging at about shoulder length Dario's brown hair looked like it had been hastily brushed but not taken care of for the past few weeks. She seemed to be intentionally avoiding eye contact.

"Nicolo, this is Dario" introduced the Chief, "Dario, this is Signor Corelli, who you'll be working with starting tomorrow." The girl gave him a glance and an awkward introductory bow, but said nothing. With a displeased sigh Lorenzo continued "The both of you will need to head over to the Medical-Technology wing of the hospital so Dr. Belisario can begin the imprinting process. Dario, you'll be spending the night at the hospital, do you have everything you'll need?"

"Yes sir" the cyborg answered. She looked back over at Nicco and asked "Is he going to be my new handler?"

Michele Pagani spoke softly to her; "It's only a temporary arrangement for now. Mr. Corelli is going to be investigating the Arthouse Killer and you'll be his bodyguard. To answer your question; yes, you will treat him as you did your original handler."

"With one exception" interrupted Elio Alboreto, his voice gruffer than that of Pagani, "if for any reason your handler chooses to confiscate your weapon, give it to the nearest available staff member. Mr. Corelli is not yet certified to carry a pistol."

Both of the cyborgs present turned to stare at Corelli, their eyes wide with shock. Neither had ever met an Agency adult who was not certified to carry a side-arm. It was Triela who blurted out "Are you serious?" She instantly regretted the outburst when numerous sets of disapproving eyes, including those of the Chief, were set upon her. "Um, if you don't need anything else I'm going to go see if Mr. Hillshire needs me for anything." She made a careful & hasty retreat toward the door.

Dario watched her fellow cyborg depart with disinterest, and Nicco began to get the impression that they did not get along well. He already held a high opinion of Triela, and had been warned that Dario might be difficult to get along with, so he was filled with a sense of trepidation. It was not in Nicolo's nature to bark out orders and command respect; he was ashamed to find himself a little intimidated by this unassuming girl with slumping posture. She wore a dark red sweatshirt bearing a logo that Nicco did not recognize, along with light brown corduroy slacks and dirty tennis shoes...all a far cry from the professional attire that Triela sported both times he had seen her. With that thought Corelli admonished himself; _stop comparing them...they're two different people, eh, cyborgs._ The Chief was talking now, explaining something to Dario but Nicolo wasn't really paying attention; he was studying the girl who would be his new companion. As he did this he caught her giving him a sideways glance as well. Their eyes met momentarily, but the girl immediately broke it off when she realized she'd been noticed.

"It's getting late," Lorenzo finally announced, changing the tone of his voice to signal that he was now addressing both cyborg & provisional handler, "the two of you should be heading over to the hospital so Dr. Belisario & company can start the imprinting process."

It was Jean Croce that drove Nicolo & his new partner out to the hospital building, Corelli in the front seat of the Mercedes Benz he'd ridden in earlier with Jean's brother, Dario in the back. Jean dropped them off at the front entrance where they were met by a bald man with a goatee. "Signor Corelli, welcome, my name is Doctor Julian Belisario. We'll only need you for a few hours...Dario you'll be staying with us overnight, do you have everything you need?" The girl said nothing, simply lifting her small overnight duffel-bag to show that she was prepared.

The name had sounded familiar when he'd heard the Chief speak it, but Nicco had not been sure until this moment. "Just a moment," he interrupted, "you're..._Dr. Julian Belisario_? Formerly of the _Università degli Studi di Torino_?"

"Yes, I was on staff there for a time" muttered the Doctor, his voice a bit uneasy as if he had been remained of an unwelcome memory.

Corelli felt as if was in the presence of celebrity; "Sir, my room-mate at University had a picture of you on his wall...kept me up nights going on and on about the ground-breaking nature of your work. I'm afraid I couldn't follow a great deal of what he was attempting to explaining to me but what I did understand was astonishing. Sir, may I be so bold as to ask you for an autograph?...addressed to Timo Lombardi, that is _Signor_ Timo Lombardi...he's not quite a full fledged Doctor yet."

Dr. Belisario was caught in an awkward moment. Never having been asked for his autograph before he felt loathe to turn the young man down, but; "Mr. Corelli...we do very secretive and cutting edge work here at the Social Welfare Agency...I'm sure you understand the need to maintain..."

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry!" replied Nicco, flushing crimson at his faux pas, "Say no more, I understand."

Still, the Doctor's ego would not let this opportunity escape entirely. He leaned forward and whispered "As long as you don't acknowledge where you've met me, I'm sure we can oblige. Perhaps you can tell him you ran into me at a cafe." Belisario changed his tone and announced "Good, if you'll follow me we'll start in the cardiac lab." The bald man led them both inside, leading the way with Nicolo behind him and Dario following silently along. Corelli glanced back at her a few times, but never got a reaction from the girl, who seemed to be apathetic & detached about the whole experience.

What Dario lacked as a conversationalist Dr. Belisario more than made up for. Much like Priscilla had done before he did his best to point out the purpose of every room they passed & introduce every single individual they crossed paths with. Nicco paused a few times, feeling an obligation to shake hands while being introduced to a new doctor or lab technician, earning him an annoyed snort from the cyborg behind, who had to stop short every time he did so then hurry to catch the fast walking Dr. Belisario.

"...and this" explained the Doctor, part of what seemed like one never ending sentence, "is where we'll begin the imprinting process. Signor Corelli if you'll please have a seat over here where Nurse Avalli is waiting for you...Dario, you know where to sit, go ahead and get started." Nicco sat down in a metal chair with minimal foam padding, and a smiling nurse wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt. The young man blushed a little, he happened to be uncommonly hairy, a fact he was a little self-conscious about. The nurse's eyebrows rose, and she gave a good natured smile of acknowledgment before fetching some shaving soap and a disposable razor, which she used to clear a few small patches of Nicolo's chest-carpet.

"Depending on ambient noise a cyborg can hear a human heartbeat from ten paces away" Belisario explained. "That's not ten of their short paces either. Every single girl is sub-consciously imprinted with the audible signature of their own handler's heartbeat so that she can distinguish it from others. This is helpful when searching for her master, or when trying to pinpoint the location of a hostile hiding nearby. As an added bonus; a cyborg can detect an arrhythmia and warn her handler of a potential heart attack up to seven minutes before actual myocardial infraction."

"Doctor, Mr. Corelli is 24 years old and in very good physical shape" chided Nurse Avalli, "I hardly think he needs to worry about a heart attack at this point in his life." She was wrong...Nicco worried about the threat of a spontaneous cardiac arrest quite a bit.

"Ah, yes, I'm sure you're right" muttered Belisario, "sometimes I tend to get carried away with these speeches. What is required is that you sit calmly for just fifteen minutes while we take in-depth biometric readings. I'm sorry our cardiovascular specialist Dr. Bergonzi is not available now; he could give you a much more fascinating overview of the process, but he is in surgery right now. Nurse, do you know how long he'll be?"

"No idea, Doctor" replied Avalli, "he's working on Signor Medino, the Section One man who was shot in the chest this morning."

"Shot in the chest?" gasped Nicco, unable to keep quiet at the ghastly news.

Belisario looked down at his console and replied casually "Signor Corelli, you must keep calm and maintain a steady heartbeat when we begin the recording. Agent Medino sustained a critical injury but his condition is regarded as stable. Such things simply come with the business we are in..._Agent_ Corelli." Nicco was unsure how anyone could keep calm and maintain a steady heartbeat under these conditions.

The sensors were hooked up, the lights were lowered to create a peaceful atmosphere and the medical staff left the room, leaving Nicolo & Dario alone in the room together. The new agent felt the awkward need to say something, but breaking the ice was difficult. _What do you say to a semi-artificial thirteen year old who might be called on to sacrifice her life for you?_ Surprisingly, it was Dario who spoke first.

"Have you really never been trained to use a handgun?" she asked.

Nicolo nodded. "That's true...is that strange?"

"I've just never met anyone who isn't trained" she answered, "everyone in the agency carries a weapon...except the doctors and even they come by the range to practice now and then."

There was another long period of silence between them before Nicco asked "So your name is Dario...I've never met a girl with that name." He stopped short of calling it a _boy's name_, but she took the inference.

"Lots of the cyborgs have male names" she retorted, "Claes, Rico, Donatello, Petrushka...and Agapita is just a feminization of a boy's name."

"Would _you_ like to do that?" asked Corelli, "Feminize your name, or chose a new one?"

The girl looked puzzled, and a little worried. "What do you mean?"

"We could call you _Daria_," he suggested, "do you like that?"

"I don't want to change my name!" the girl shrieked, triggering a carnival of alarm buzzers and lights of all varieties.

Frantic, Nicolo tried to placate her "It's okay, it's okay...it was only a suggestion!"

"You change your name!" she exclaimed, but Nurse Avillia rushed in to calm things down.

"Both of you need to relax and stop shouting!" she ordered, "In order for the data to be useful you have to remain calm."

"Sorry" muttered Nicco, acutely aware of his heart pounding in his chest.

Once she was gone there was another minute of total silence before the cyborg nervously inquired "So do I have to do it?"

"Do what?"

Dario answered "Change my name, sir."

"I though you'd pretty conclusively put down that suggestion" he muttered.

She turned her eyes down and replied "It's not my decision, sir. If you want to call me _Merda di Cane_ then that's my new name. You're my handler."

"Dario, it's me who should feel like dog shit right now" Corelli said, "you keep whatever name you like."

Fifteen minutes later the monitoring was complete, and Nicco was ushered into another room without Dario. Dr. Belisario was not around anymore either. "We're going to give you a full head to toe MRI scan" Nurse Avillia explained, handing him a pale green paper robe. "In addition to being the best hire-on physical you'll ever get this allows us to map every millimeter of your face...more information which will be imprinted on your cyborg."

"Is there any radiation involved?" asked Nicco, trying his best to sound casual and not betray the nervousness he felt about being scanned.

"This isn't like a CT scan or an X-ray" the RN explained, "it uses a magnetic field and radio waves so there is no ionizing radiation. Even if we were using one of those other techniques you'd be exposed to less radiation than is put off by a single pack of cigarettes."

"I don't smoke" Nicolo told her.

Accustomed as she was to the scowling fatalistic veterans of both Special Ops sections Nurse Avillia did not know what to make of the somewhat milquetoast Public Safety man. "That's good" she simply replied, "you can get changed behind that curtain."

The scans took 20 minutes, and while Nicco lay on the cold steel table his cyborg came in. "Is it okay?" he heard her ask one of the technicians, who waved her through. "Mr. Corelli, sir, I'm done with your heartbeat imprinting. I have to stay overnight for hypnotic conditioning though. Is there anything else you require this evening?"

"Um, no, I don't think so Dario" he answered, unsure if he should be speaking during the scans. He lifted his head a little and caught her curiously peeking up his robe. With a disapproving furrow of his eyebrows Nicolo moved his legs closer together..._nothing there a girl her age needs to be looking at_.

"Mr. Corelli, please try not to move" admonished the lab tech, "re-run that last scan."

For her part Dario was a little embarrassed to have been caught peeking at her new master's _equipment_, so she stepped forward and continued "I'm expected to report to you before retiring for the night."

"Oh...okay" her handler replied, not sure what to say.

"I have scheduled training at the indoor shooting range tomorrow morning at 0900" she explained. "Cyborgs can't use the indoor range without an supervisor, so you have to be there."

"Indoor range, 9am...got it" Nicolo answered, although he was not even sure where that was.

She sat and watched him silently for a few moments before reminding "You have to dismiss me, sir."

"Oh...sorry!" Corelli laughed nervously, "Eh, consider yourself dismissed...and have a good night." The girl nodded deferentially and exited the room, leaving Nicco alone with the humming magnets, wondering if he'd ever feel relaxed around her.

**_Fresh Fish_**

Upon his release from the hospital an hour later Nicolo Corelli was presented with some reading material, a great deal of it in fact. Nurse Avilla provided him with _The Section Two Handler's Policy Manual_, a personalized dossier on Dario, a 40 page paper called _Basic Cyborg Psychology: What to expect from your new trainee_ by Doctor Fernando Bianchi, a much shorter report on recommended conditioning guidelines by Jean Croce and a 292 page plastic spiral bound index of "Primary Commands" which the cyborgs where reputed to obey autonomically. Rather than balk at the homework load he was being assigned Nicco felt relieved. Books he was comfortable with...it was people (_and now cyborgs_) that gave him difficulty. Perhaps armed with the knowledge these pages could impart to him Nicco could expect an easier day tomorrow.

Determined not to go looking for help with every little thing Nicco made his way back to the handler's office building on his own. In such a vast building (at least compared to his cramped Public Safety branch office) there had to be an open desk somewhere, so he set about searching on the floor where Giuseppe Croce's office was located. The ground floor was a noisy public space where Nicco was sure to get no reading done, and the top floor seemed reserved for the higher-echelons of command. A dream situation presented itself when Nicco found an open office _filled_ with books. It seemed somewhat lived-in, with a stainless steel thermos full of tea on the desk and fresh linen on the bed. Despite this there was no name-plate on the door so Nicco switched the lamp on, hung his coat from the back of the chair & settled in for a satisfying night of study.

Corelli would be denied that satisfaction though. Without knocking a rusty haired man in his mid-30's popped in. "You're the new chap? Corelli, right?" he asked in Italian which sounded like it carried a Northern Irish accent.

"Umm...yes...I'm..."

"Nicolo Corelli, I know" the man replied, shaking his hand with a firm but not crushing grip, "Brian McDonnell; pleased to meet you. We've been looking all over for you...Nurse Camilla said you left the hospital without calling for a ride."

Nicco was mortified, he'd honestly thought he was finished for the day. _What else is there for me to do?_ "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was looking for me."

"Just grab your coat and come on" said McDonnell, "the guys are waiting."

The two men walked downstairs and outside to where a white Ford Transit van sat idling. "I found our fresh fish!" announced Brian, hopping in the back and holding the door for Nicco, "That means the first round is on..._not me_."

"I think tonight's mission objective should be, as it is every night, to ensure Michele gets drunk enough to pick up the entire tab himself" laughed a square-jawed man who spoke with his hands as much as his voice.

A sharply groomed fellow Nicolo recognized from earlier suggested "Maybe I could just agree to pay the tab ahead of time and spare myself the hangover?" The one Nicco assumed to be _Michele_ had been sporting an impeccable suit earlier, but now he had changed into a red polo shirt bearing the prancing horse crest of Scuderia Ferrari.

"Bah, we'd feel awkward letting you agree to pay ahead of time" teased the first man, "better to let you get good and loaded first then pretend to argue with you over the check."

"Where was our missing FNG?" asked the driver (a dark skinned man that looked to Nicco to be at least partially Middle Eastern) as he slipped the van into gear and pulled away slowly.

"_La Biblioteca di Claes_" answered Brian.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" chuckled Michele.

"I had a lot of reading to do" answered Nicco, "it seemed like a good place. Um, may I ask where we're going?"

The driver explained; "There's a taverna down the road, we figured you could use a drink..."

"Or ten" chimed in Brian.

"...seeing it's your first day." And thusly, Nicolo Corelli was swept along to go drinking with a delegation of handlers from Section Two.

**_The Furniture Importers_**

The taverna sat alone on a somewhat remote stretch of road not far from the SWA compound. It could have just as easily been described as a tattoria, having a small dining room in the front, but it was to the bar where Nicolo was led by his new colleagues, specifically a back room somewhat (but not completely) isolated from the tavern proper.

Giuseppe Croce was with them, but not his older brother. The dark haired man who had brought Nicco down the proverbial rabbit hole earlier took a cautious look in both directions and pulled a high-tech looking wand from his coat. As Michele & Brian guarded the archway that led out into the bar & dining room he passed the wand around the room, under tables and past the wall sconces. It emitted a fluctuating humming tone which Corelli did not understand, but seemed to please Croce. He gave a confident nod and all the handlers relaxed, taking off their coats and staking out chairs. "Sweeping for bugs" explained Giuseppe, "this place is pretty safe but it doesn't hurt to be careful if you're going to be talking shop." Nicco felt a little foolish for thinking about actual insects before realizing Croce was scanning for listening devices.

Introductions were made, and with only 5 new names to remember things were a lot easier on Nicolo. He had already met Giuseppe Croce, Brian McDonnell had introduced himself back at headquarters and Michele Pagani was the man in the red polo shirt whom he'd seen in the Chief's office. New to Corelli was Jacob Mehrandish, who had been driving the van, and Avise Mancini, the jovial square jawed fellow who was already summoning a barmaid to take their drink orders.

To Nicco's dismay the barmaid (who greeted the five handlers with cheerful familiarity) asked for the newcomer's order first. In an assemblage of hardened killers he was not sure what he should order. He assumed these men had pure fiery grappa flowing through their veins...or in the case of the one Irishman, whiskey. Pagani relieved his worries though by taking advantage of Nicco's hesitation to jump ahead and order a strawberry daiquiri. Croce & Mancini each asked for red wine, Mehrandish the driver got his cola for free, and McDonnell ordered a beer. Breathing a sigh of relief Corelli felt comfortable asking for a light _Vernaccia di San Gimignano_, but the barmaid laughed as if he was telling a joke and said she'd bring him the house white.

"A fine palate for _vino_ you have, Corelli, one perhaps too fine for a roadhouse like this" chuckled Giuseppe, "still, if you feel peckish tonight this place makes a surprisingly good tiramisu." Pagani nodded his head in assent.

"I see" replied Nicolo. Croce's reminder did bring to his attention the fact that he had not eaten since lunch, and was rushing into a night of potentially heavy drinking on an empty stomach. The other men seemed to have already addressed that issue though, as Mehrandish & Mancini were earnestly reviewing the menu, selecting a few antipasto platters for the whole table. "This seems like a nice place...and not too far from the compound. Do you ever take your cyborgs here?"  
"Absolutely not!" declared McDonnell, slapping the table with his open palm for emphasis, "By mutual agreement of all adult Section Two members, handlers & staff alike, this establishment has been declared a _zero-cyborg_ zone!"

"Personally I don't see what harm there is in bringing them during the daytime, for lunch" mumbled Giuseppe, but from the tone of his voice it was obvious that he knew his suggestion was going to be shot down.

"Don't get soft on me, Croce" warned the Irishman, "we all agreed to this! Having one spot in all of Italy that we can get away from the girls is the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."

"Since when are you _sane_?" Jacob snuck in a jab.

Dismay must have shown on Nicco's face because Michele felt the need to explain "It's not as bad as he's making it sound. Everyone at this table is very fond of their cyborg, but I'm sure you understand the need for a little _grown-up time_."

At the sound of a quick whistle from Jacob they all stopped talking, but commenced laughing as if someone had told a joke. He had seen the barmaid returning with their first round of drinks, and everyone was acutely tuned to the signal. "You guys are always laughing at something when I come in" she remarked, holding a tray with one hand & skillfully flipping down coasters on the table with the other.

"A mere expression of our mirth at your most eagerly anticipated arrival, oh purveyor of splendid libation!" pronounced Avise, rising to help her with the drinks. She rolled her eyes at his bombastic display.

"I hope you know; a silver tongue won't be enough to get into my pants" she laughed.

"Then you have provided me with a most lofty aspiration, dear lady" he continued to tease, depositing her tip onto the tray.

She regarded the €10 note approvingly and said "I'll say this; you jokers are the best tipping bunch of furniture importers who ever come in here." With that she left.

"Furniture importers?" muttered Nicolo. It wasn't a particularly glamorous cover story for a group of secret agents.

"A running joke" sighed Mancini, taking his orotund manner down a notch but not abandoning it entirely, "when Section Two members first started coming here they thought it was a good ruse...it explained why some of us might be absent for long periods, and gave us a clever excuse for having stories involving international travel. Over time Section Two grew & unfortunately Section One also liked the story enough that _they_ all became furniture importers too...and did I fail to mention that there is no furniture import company in this area?" Nicco laughed along with everyone at this comedy of errors. "The staff here obviously doesn't know what goes on at the top secret government compound down the road, but they know that we're involved. It's just a bit of inside humor...we're all still ostensibly furniture importers if anyone asks."

"One of the reasons we come here is that they just accept our business without a lot of questions" added Brian.

As the night progressed the Section Two handlers proved their business worthy of consideration, ordering a several trays of _pane_, _formaggio_ & _molluschi_ as well as round after round of drinks. Nicolo felt obligated to keep pace with his new colleagues, which sometimes meant gulping down a whole glass of wine when the waitress arrived to bring a replacement. Try as he might, the young man could not maintain the impressive rate of consumption demonstrated by Avise Mancini, who was soon on his feet encouraging one of the idle tattoria waitresses (there were few customers for dinner at this late hour) to take her place at the upright piano so that he might have accompaniment whilst he regale the party with song. Despite his slurred speech Avise maintained a fine singing voice, and the applause of the other patrons only impelled him to deliver a few more traditional Italian favorites.

"_Bravissimo_ Avise!" laughed Michele, clapping as the Bersagliere took a bow and slacked his thirst with another glass of chianti. Pagani turned to Nicco and said "Just wait until he gets into the regimental stuff...he's saving that up for later."

"Are most of you guys ex-military?" asked Corelli, "Is it some kind of requirement to become a handler?"

Giuseppe Croce answered; "Everyone here is...but it's not a requirement. Michele was _Aeronautica Militaire_, Avise has already told you he was in the Bersaglieri, and I was in the Tuscania parachute regiment...my brother as well." He turned to McDonnell and Mehrandish, and added "These two served back in their own home countries...in fact the first time I met Jacob here was in Bosnia, when he was with KFOR."

"That brings up another question I had" ventured Nicolo, daring to ask a lot more questions than he would have completely sober. "For such a top-secret Italian organization there are certainly a lot of foreign nationals. I mean...that Mr. Hillshire was obviously German, even though he has a British name...I'm guessing Brian is an Ulsterman from North Ireland...and Jacob, you are..." He paused timidly. Mehrandish was not drinking alcohol, and looked very Middle Eastern.

"Canadian" answered Jacob, adding a little growl to his voice, "my Father was from Iran."

Since he had not really gotten an answer to what he was wondering (_specifically; is Mehrandish Muslim?_) he pressed a bit. "Umm, I noticed that you're not drinking alcohol, does that mean you are...?" He faltered, worrying that it might be too personal a question.

"The designated driver" Jacob replied, knowing exactly what Corelli wanted to ask, but not giving him an answer. Desperate to hide his embarrassment Nicco took a heavy swig from his wine glass.

Pagani maneuvered them past the tense moment; "Getting back to your question about non-Italian's: A program like this exists at the absolute highest echelons of secrecy. In that rarefied atmosphere there just isn't a huge hiring pool to select from. The worldwide intelligence and special operations community exists as kind of its own entity...for example I don't exchange much more than friendly pleasantries with my own neighbors back in Rome, but I get a Christmas card every year from a Nadia Petrovna, a Russian FSB agent I've worked with in Kosovo and later Geneva."

"I understand" said Corelli, nodding his head. "So being a native Italian citizen isn't as important as having proven your ability to keep secrets at this high a level."

"Given the Padania situation Italian citizens are just as suspect as foreigners" elaborated Giuseppe, "believe me, Chief Lorenzo & my brother Jean put you through some pretty rigorous background investigations before letting you in."

"So who's been here the longest?" Nicco asked.

Jacob thought for a second and asked "Handlers, or the whole staff? Lorenzo obviously, and I think Ferro was the first one the Chief recruited...but Vic Hillshire has been a handler the longest."

"Yes, but Michele here was around in a different capacity even before Victor" contended Giuseppe, "He worked with the engineering team for the first cyborg, Angelica."

The young analyst had not even considered that there had to have been a _first_ cyborg, a prototype for all the rest, but it made sense. "What was that like?" he asked Michele.

Pagani leaned back in his chair. His entire demeanor took on an air of nostalgia as he explained "It was rewarding, but I can't sugar coat how rough it was...engineering-wise but also emotionally. Elements of Angelina's cyborg body were ready for trials before the brainwashing process was, so we began the build process while she still had memory of her life at home. That was an _enormous_ mistake. She regained consciousness earlier than expected from the first surgery and nobody was with her...so she awoke alone to discover her legs had been amputated and replaced. Angelina started screaming and panicking...she had no idea what to think of all this, she was just an unfortunate ten year old girl to whom nobody had explained what we were going to do."

"Jeeze" muttered Nicco, at the heavy turn the conversation had taken.

Pagani continued; "Since we hadn't conditioned her yet the man who would become her handler, a NOCS officer named Marco Toni, was just another guy to her, so even he was helpless to calm Angelina down. Eventually she had to be re-sedated.

"As time passed she got used to the idea that she had new mechanical parts every time she woke up from a surgery...and it was really a bonus when the physical therapists began teaching her to walk again. There were still enormous technical problems though. The central interface processor messed with her muscle memory, and she had to wear diapers until we sorted out the problem. This was devastating to her because just a few days earlier she'd been in complete control of that sort of thing. It had to be humiliating...you know they don't make diapers for a child her size, so we had to take the the smallest adult size we could find and hold them on with tape. No sooner had that been sorted she inexplicably lost the ability to swallow and had to be fed via naso-gastric tube for a week."

"It sounds rough" Nicolo commented, "do all the cyborgs have it that rough when they're...um, born? Built? Activated? I don't really know what term describes it best."

"We tend to call it call it _waking up_" McDonnell informed him. "There's an adjustment period with all new cyborgs, how fast they adjust to their new life depends on the individual girl and the work the handler puts in with her. Jacob's second one was a nightmare at first. You won't have to worry about all that...your Dario is already 100% functional and mission ready."

"Being part of that initial period was worth it though," continued Pagani, rambling a bit as his head swam in white rum, "once Angelina got her brainwash Marco renamed her Angelica to signify a new start. Even though she had no memory of how she got them the _new girl_ accepted her cybernetic parts without question. There were immense difficulties of course...it was all brand new technology...but she was amazing. Section Two, and those few of us who were just helping out all came from some pretty rough backgrounds but it was absolutely impossible not to fall in love with that little girl and her thousand watt smile. In no time we were sitting around in our idle hours writing _fairy tales_ to keep her entertained!

"Things like walking, writing, and holding a fork were struggles but once she got that body sorted out Angelica learned her combat skills unbelievably quickly. After one embarrassing incident involving two of the training staff they decided to give her an audition in the field...and that's how Section Two got its start."

He was silenced by a quick whistle from Jacob as the bar-maid arrived with another round for the five men around the table (Avise was still at the piano, flush with free drinks sent to him by appreciative patrons). As soon as she was gone Nicco asked "Will I get to meet this Angelica?"

Pagani gave a wan smile and replied "No. Cyborgs live fast and unfortunately die hard. Angelica was at peace at the end, but it must be said, she went with a great deal of honor." Giuseppe nodded, and patted his colleague on the shoulder; knowing what sorrow it still held for Michele. Corelli did not even know what the little girl had looked like, but from the reactions of the grim & hardened campaigners around the table he could see that in her short life she had achieved a great deal of respect in even their battle-weary eyes. Nicolo doubted he could ever earn that much respect from men such as these, and if he even merited a place within this assemblage.

Jacob, the only sober one in the group, rescued the company from its own maudlin mood by asking "So Corelli, what do you & Dario have on the agenda for your first day together?"

"I'm...I'm supposed to meet her somewhere" muttered Nicolo, his mind clouded by wine. "The range...the indoor range, or the outdoor...shit."

"Then you're headed into Rome with Mr. A, right?" offered Giuseppe. The other men hooted and delivered low, ominous sounding howls.

"What?" the analyst asked nervously, "Should I be concerned about something?"

"Not at all" explained McDonnell, "it's just that Elio Alboreto's been in this business a very long time. Working with him can be a bit _intense_."

Pagani smiled and offered "The first time I worked with him he'd already been holed up on a stake-out in a rat-hole apartment in Sicily for a week...in the summer, with no air conditioning, and he was still drinking his tea hot like an Englishman."

"I heard that on her first mission he made his cyborg cut off the target's fingers one by one" Croce offered.

Jacob chimed in with his contribution "I heard he turned down the Vice Presidency of Angola." Nicco was beginning to get a feel for their game.

"I heard old man Alboreto once drank 27 pints of Guinness without havin' a piss" contributed Brian McDonnell on his turn.

On cue, Mancini walked over and announced "It has recently come to my attention that Elio Alboreto once lived in a cave with a female bear for six months, and it was she that eventually moved out because of his ill temperament." That one drew laughter & applause from the men; apparently it was a new one they hadn't heard before. They all turned to Nicco and waited expectantly.

"Ehhh..." he stalled for time, trying to think of a good one. He chose to use the only bit of gossip he'd yet heard about the middle-aged handler; "I heard Signor Alboreto once washed a cyborg's mouth out with soap...and lived to tell about it!" His contribution to the game was a success, and he was rewarded with toasts and back slapping congratulations for having held his own. _Perhaps,_ Nicolo considered, _I do have a place with this crowd_.

**_Home on the Compound_**

Closing time eventually came and although Avise managed to delay the inevitable by delivering one more song the _furniture importers_ were chased out the door with friendly admonishments to "_stop in again soon!_"

Jacob rounded up his merry band, ushering them into the van so he could drop them off on compound and at their respective homes. For the ride back Nicolo selected the front passenger seat in order that he may have a window available in case the combination of motion and the excess of wine he had consumed conspired to effect the rapid evacuation of his stomach contents. As Michele & Brian sat behind him, drunkenly debating the differences between quiche (_the dish_) and kitsch (_the decorating style_), Nicco took a few moments to consider that he'd completed none of the reading he'd hoped to accomplish tonight, and would be going into his first full day armed with little more than a greater knowledge of Agency history & culture, and a splitting headache.

They arrived at the front gate and struggled with a new delay; as Corelli's Public Safety credentials were once again deemed inadequate to enter the compound. Eventually the night's duty officer was contacted, and Priscilla was able to convince the security staff to allow Section Two's newest handler in.

At the office building Nicolo Corelli climbed out, thanking his colleagues for a memorable night (_and thanking Michele Pagani profusely for paying the considerable tab_). He was surprised to see Avise stumble out of the van with him, turning to walk backwards as he belted out one last rendition of the Neapolitan classic _O Solo Mio_. "Aren't you going home as well?" he asked the Bersagliere.

"I am home" replied Mancini, "such is my devotion to the Italian Republic that I make my abode upon the very installation at which I serve!"

"Actually he's just a cheap bastard" pointed out Mehrandish, with a sly grin "saves money by living on compound...he doesn't even own a car, he just signs one out of the agency motor pool when he needs to go somewhere." Avise simply snorted in indignation, made a wobbly about-face and marched up the stairs into the building.

Nicolo was surprised how fast the ex-military man could negotiate stairs in his condition; for his part he had to hold onto the hand-rail for dear life and silently implore the fates to stop the room from spinning. He managed to catch up with Avise in the second floor hallway. "Eh...Major Mancini...Avise...this may be a stupid question, but if you live here does that mean there's a bathroom with showers?"

"End of the hall" replied Avise, pointing. Corelli was about to inquire about towels and other sundries when they were joined by Priscilla, coming to check on her two arrivals after what was certainly a night of heavy imbibition.

"Glad to see you two made it home in one piece" she joked, "so they took you down to that taverna down the road?"

"Yes ma'am" answered the analyst, a little embarrassed to be seen in his inebriated condition. Mancini had no such compunctions though; he grabbed Priscilla by the waist and hand, sweeping her up in a waltz whilst once again bursting into song.

"_Signor Corelli here, has a prob-lem I fear! He is in need my dear; towels and some shaving gear!" _Into his waltz he threw an unexpected dip, sweeping Priscilla's head within inches of the floor.

This drew a laughing shriek from the Agency's intelligence officer, who cried out "Avise don't you dare drop me or I'm telling Agapita all about that woman in Ostia!" Nicco could not help but smile at their capering.

Mancini straightened up, released his breathless dance partner and gave an exaggerated formal bow. "I think I'll go downstairs to the canteen...I really need a coffee."

"No you don't need coffee!" Priscilla scolded, turning him by the shoulders to face his own door, "You need to go to bed before somebody sees you in this condition. Good night, Major Mancini!"

Once he was gone Priscilla gave an exasperated laugh and said "I hope those guys weren't too brutal with you this evening. I'd have gone myself to keep an eye on things but I had the duty tonight."

"Not at all, it was delightful" Nicolo answered, feeling nervous and awkward about his choice of words before they had even left his lips.

"So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" she asked, but then checked her wrist-watch and corrected "I'm sorry; later today?"

Shaking his head in an effort to think more clearly Nicco replied "I've got to meet Dario at the range at 9am...but I don't even know where that is."

"Okay, indoor or outdoor?" inquired Priscilla.

Corelli was ashamed to answer "I forgot."

"Well, the girls can use the outdoor range alone, under the supervision of the range officer, but not the indoor range" she helped him along with a few hints.

The hints worked to jog his alcohol fogged memory. "Oh yeah...she said I needed to be there, so it must be the indoor range."

"Good!" Priscilla praised him without sounding _too_ patronizing. "Turn right when you leave this building and it's about a half kilometer down the concrete footpath, in-between our portion of the compound and Section One's. If you need directions make sure to ask one of our people, the Sec One folks think it's funny to send our newbies on a wild goose chase all over the compound. So what's up after that?"

"Dario & I are going into Rome with Mr. Alboreto" he told her.

"Yikes," she gasped, "on your first day?" Priscilla shuddered a little and explained "I walked in on him in the evidence room once...he was taking a working lunch while reviewing the captured snuff porn videos. I couldn't even look at the _screen_ it was so horrible, but he was just sitting there eating a sandwich and taking notes on any little bit of evidence he could pick out!" A palpable chill ran down her spine.

"Oh wait..." said Nicolo, misreading the situation badly, "I know this game...I heard Mr. Alboreto once wrestled a crocodile and..."

"Nicco I was being serious;" she deadpanned "sometimes I get the shivers just walking into the evidence rooms & knowing those discs are sitting on the shelves." The two stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments until Priscilla remembered "Towel! You need a towel and some toiletries! We might have something down in the store room, I'll be right back." As she hurried off Nicolo bitterly cursed his social ineptitude. She had gone from riotous laughter while Avise was there to awkward silence with him in just moments.

Priscilla returned just a few minutes later; crimson faced but unable to contain sympathetic laughter. "Mr. Corelli, I'm _so sorry_" she giggled in spite of herself, "but this is all we have." She offered him a kit containing a hairbrush, toothbrush, various soaps, deodorant & toothpaste as well as a hand mirror, all in a clear vinyl zipper bag. Everything inside the bag was _pink_. "It's the starter kit we give the girls on their first day...I'm afraid we don't have anything else."

"Beggars can't be choosers" he sighed, accepting the toiletries kit from her.

"I promise tomorrow will be better" she consoled, "someday you're going to look back at this and consider it all pretty funny."

"It's already pretty funny" Nicco assured her, although he was getting a bit tired of being the butt of every cosmic joke.

Priscilla continued "I wouldn't use the shampoo unless you want to smell like strawberries, but the other stuff should be safe. Again, I'm _really_ sorry about this. Hope you have a good night, Nicolo."

"Thank you Priscilla."

Nicco made his way to the bathroom and washed up as best he could. When it came time to brush his teeth he shook his head at a pink handled brush that was too small for his hand, but made the best of what he had. Finishing up Nicco made his way back to the office where he'd left his untouched "homework" pile and flopped down on the bed. At least the room wasn't spinning anymore. Lacking any night-clothes Corelli stripped down to his briefs and nestled between the sheets. _It's only 3am...maybe I can get some reading done before I go to sleep_. It was not to be though; Nicco passed into a dreamless slumber with the lamp on and the Dr. Bianchi's _Basic Cyborg Psychology _in his hands. His last thought as he drifted off was that the pillow he slept on had a faint perfume of strawberries.

**END OF SECOND CHAPTER**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Something had changed. Nicolo was aware it was morning but all of a sudden there was more light trying to force its way through his tightly clenched eyelids. He had a pounding headache, and as memory rushed back into his conscious mind he cursed the round after round of white wine he had so willingly consumed the night before.

"_Why did the light just increase so suddenly?_" he wondered, but then Corelli was gripped by the sensation that he was not alone in the room. He was being watched. Startled, Nicco sat up quickly, and rubbed his eyes. As his vision cleared a figure came into focus. It was not his cyborg Dario, but a dark haired girl who looked about the same age. She wore glasses and looked at him with nervous uncertainty.

"Umm...good morning Sir" she said, "who are you?"

"I'm Nicolo Corelli" he muttered, rubbing his forehead and stretching his aching muscles. As he slowly came around he asked "I'm sorry, is this your room or something?"

The dark haired girl stared off into the distance, awkwardly uncomfortable with making eye contact. "Not really I guess. I just keep my books in here...nobody ever officially told me this space was mine. Is this your office now?" Nicco could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of her.

"No" he answered, "I just didn't have a place to sleep last night, and it looked like this room wasn't occupied."

"I guess I can move my stuff if you want this room" she sighed.

Nicolo sat upright and put his feet on the floor, still wrapped in the sheets. "Don't do that. I know how it feels to love books, I'd feel bad if you had to give up your library. Surely the Agency can find some other place to put me." He began to feel a little more clear headed and asked "Do you always come to visit your library this early?"

Looking a little surprised the girl checked her wristwatch and informed him "Sir, it's nearly 11 o'clock."

"Oh, damn it!" Nicco snapped, tossing off the covers. The girl's eyes grew wide and her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing. Corelli was puzzled by her expression for just an instant before he realized he was wearing only underwear. His face flushing pink the man yanked the sheets back over himself.

"I-I'll give y-you a few m-minutes" stammered the blushing girl, backing out of the room with an awkward, clumsy stumble.

Nicco dressed rapidly and dashed to the bathroom where he tried to scrub the sour taste of old wine out of his mouth with the pink toothbrush Priscilla had given him the night before. Without thinking he ran the deodorant over his armpits, stopping cold when he realized it smelled flowery & powdery like something a teenaged girl would choose. _Too late now_, he accepted with a sigh, and finished the job. Tucking his shirt in he dashed out into the hallway and found himself face to face with the Chief and Jean Croce.

"Looking very eager to get started, Mr. Corelli" commented Lorenzo.

Honestly, Nicolo answered "Actually sir, I overslept."

"There's really no set schedule for handlers" the Chief informed him, "as long as your mission is getting accomplished it doesn't matter what time you wake up."

"Well" Nicco admitted, "I'm two hours late meeting my cyborg at the indoor range."

"Hmmm" mused the older man with understated authority, "perhaps you are correct, you should have been up earlier." The Section Two Chief's reserved admonishment hit harder than any crimson faced bawling out he'd ever received from his Public Safety Station Chief Lona Marchelli.

It took Corelli 15 minutes to find the indoor range, but when he arrived he found Dario sitting on a bench outside. "I'm..." he panted, having sprinted all the way,making several wrong turns, "I'm sorry I'm late. I over slept because..."

She rose to speak to him. "It's okay sir" the girl replied without the anger or disappointment Nicolo felt he deserved, "you're under no obligation to me."

"Well, we can go inside now" Nicco offered, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

"It's too late" explained Dario, "by the time I got set up the session would be over and the range would close for lunch."

Sitting down on the bench he asked "So if you don't want to go inside to the range what do you want to do?" He hoped she wouldn't say _lunch_...Nicco did not feel like he could hold down any food at this moment.

"I'm excused from afternoon classes to work with you, Mr. Corelli" she told him, "What do _you_ have planned?"

Remembering the conversations of the previous night he said "We'll be going into Rome with Mr. Alboreto this afternoon."

"Maybe we should meet with him then" Dario suggested. Her new handler nodded emphatically, but just sat on the bench staring at her. She finally groaned "He's supervising the shoot-house this morning." Nicco noted the first hint of emotion in her voice this morning, and it was petulance.

**_Elio Alboreto_**

Giada side-stepped down the hall quickly with her pistol held low. She flashed her partner Rachel a signal and went for the door, kicking it in violently and scanning the room for targets. There was one sneering terrorist in the window but just as she leveled her aim against him she felt the cold pressure of a gun-barrel against the back of her skull. She felt the sharp click of the hammer reverberate through the weapon, into her skull and down to her clenched teeth. Giada dropped her arms in frustration.

"Where is your danger area?" demanded Elio Alboreto.

"Behind the door" groaned the girl.

"Exactly where you forgot to check" he pointed out, as if it needed to be made any clearer. "Your team is following you, and you've just led them into an ambush by getting fixated on the target in front of you. It's Rachel's job to take him."

As the cyborgs dropped their guard and readied for another simulation Giada muttered under her breath "I'm a _cyborg_, it's not like I can't take a hit in the head." She'd said it too loud though, and the instructor whipped around with an angry look on his face, rewarding her insolence with a sharp crack of his knuckles to the back of her skull.

"Like _that_ you mean?" he barked. Leaving Giada rubbing the new sore spot on her head Elio muttered "Petra, give me a boost, will you?" The red-headed teen cupped her hands together to accept the handler's foot and with nominal effort lifted him to the top of the shoot-house wall. "Ladies;" he addressed the group, standing up straight and pacing across the cinder-block structure "every one of you has been briefed about the new threats we face. The Padania is getting smarter...they are using heavier weapons...they are using steel core and Teflon coated bullets which can pierce your armor...they are using new tactics which we will be vulnerable to if we do not take our training seriously! Everyone together; where is your danger area?"

The assembled cyborgs all answered in unison "In corners and behind doors."

"That's right" he continued, "and we will live by that credo in training so that we may continue living in battle." The gray bearded man gave that a moment to soak in and changed his tone. "Now let's run through one live-fire simulation before the lunch break. Giada is team leader for this exercise."

The short haired blonde stopped in the middle of her self pitying pout and asked with surprise "I am?" She was sure her screw-up and smart mouth had gotten her fired from that role.

"It's your turn today, right?" asked Elio, "Besides, at this moment there is no one more qualified to look after the safety & welfare of the team." He squatted down to address the girl directly, and spoke in a softer tone "Make your plan, brief your team, arm up with live rounds and report to Georgio when you're ready for the timer to begin."

"Yes Sir!" she replied with a broad grin on her face, and she hurried off to set up for the attack she would be leading.

Elio walked along the walls of the roofless shoot-house and hopped over the railing onto the observation deck where his fellow handlers watched. "I don't know how you get away with it" muttered Danilo Sandrelli with a shake of his head "you cracked her in the back of the noggin and 30 seconds later she's smiling at you like the sun shines outta your butt!"

"It's our job to build them up, not tear them down" muttered Elio. He gave a glance around the area, looking for coffee, but noticed Nicolo standing on the observation platform amongst his fellow handlers. "Corelli, good to see you" he greeted, offering a handshake "hope the lads weren't too rough on you last night." After spending the previous night listening to wild rumors about this man Nicco had been a little intimidated, but in the light of day he just seemed like a friendly older fellow who was exceptionally good at managing a gaggle of cyborgs. Just when Nicco was beginning to feel comfortable about spending the afternoon with this unfairly characterized monster Elio gave a sharp sniff with flared nostrils and chuckled "Well, _damn_ Nicolo...don't _you_ smell like a pretty princess this morning?"

The other handlers laughed, but as he had demonstrated with Giada, Alboreto did not pick on any one person for long. "Do you have a plan for our visit to Rome today?" he asked, leaning on the rail, overlooking the shoot-house labyrinth.

Nicco was embarrassed to admit he did not. "The truth is I've never investigated a murder before...much less _four_. I really don't know where to start."

The older handler seemed unconcerned. "I'm sure we'll figure something out" he muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. "How about Dario, is she ready?"

"Yes!" answered Corelli with too much enthusiasm. Having Dario right by his side when she was called for was the first thing he felt he'd done right all day. However, she was _not_ by his side. "Wait...she was here a second ago...she was right behind me."

Elio did not even have to look; "She's at the bottom of the stairs" he informed Nicolo. "Cyborgs are not allowed on the observation platform unless invited. Hey, Dario, come on up and watch from here!" At his command the girl scampered up the stairs and took a place at the rail between Mr. Alboreto and her new handler. "I'm sorry; if I'd been thinking I'd have worked you into the live-fire simulation, but it's too late now, Giada is already briefing her team. You'll get a good view of the action from up here though."

"Arturo never brought me up here" Dario said, looking down at the shoot-house from a perspective that was new to her. Nicco could not help but feel a hint of envy watching the way his girl looked at Alboreto. Around _him_ she was sullen and disinterested, going through the motions without any initiative of her own, but around a strong, competent handler she displayed some genuine enthusiasm...hurrying up the stairs and actually showing a hint of a smile.

"You said yesterday that you're not bringing your own cyborg along?" commented Nicolo, eager to make conversation.

"No, it'll just be the three of us today" explained Alboreto. "I'd never actually planned it any other way, but Marisa's little rooftop stunt yesterday gave me a good _excuse_ to leave her. She thinks she's being disciplined for doing something crazy & stupid; restricted to compound for a day. So I get to kill two birds with one stone, see?" Dario gave a little chuckle at that, impelling the older handler to growl "Not a word about that to Mari, _capito_? Direct order."

"Yes sir" answered the girl, displaying none of the apathy she showed when speaking to Nicolo.

Their conversation was interrupted by an unambiguous cry of warning; "Clear the range!" shouted a short-haired man in combat dress, "This is a live-fire, repeat live fire exercise!"

"Does that mean they're firing _real_ ammunition?" asked Nicolo. He directed his question at Alboreto, but the handler remained silent. Instead of answering he gave Dario a nudge.

Thusly impelled to provide explanation Dario informed her handler "Yes sir. The attack team has done several practice runs with unloaded weapons, now it's time for them to clear the course using live ammo." At the sound of a whistle Giada and her team of five cyborgs (Rachel, Petrushka, Ilaria, Lucretia & Allison...Nicco recognized a few and overheard the names of the others) rushed into the concrete maze, kicking down doors and shouting information amongst themselves. Nicco was watching the tall red-head named Petrushka when a blast to his left startled him. Lucretia had fired the first shot of the simulation, taking out a cardboard adversary with her shotgun. Soon gunfire was echoing all over the range...Nicolo could barely move his head fast enough to take it all in but in spite of his hangover he struggled to understand everything that was going on. He was struck by the controlled precision with which the cyborgs moved. Directly under him a trio of girls charged down a hallway, and at some seemingly random second they split up and went three different directions. Before Corelli could even figure out what was going on they converged on one room. Rachel tapped a target with the barrel of her pistol and shouted out "Hostage Beta secure!"

In seconds there was a shout from the opposite side of the shoot-house "Hostage Alpha secure!" More shots followed...Nicco still had trouble keeping up with all that was going on. Gradually the shots trailed off, but not the high pitched shouts of the girls, who communicated constantly throughout the exercise. "They do both noisy & quiet simulations" explained Elio, "since this is the first live-fire of the day it's the easy kind. They'll run through this scenario a few more times after lunch, eventually doing the whole thing silently."

Although the only individuals being fired at today were made of heavy cardboard Nicco found it impossible to detach himself from the implied violence of the situation. Such young girls performing so competently (at least in his eyes) at such a horrifically brutal task was chilling. Also impossible to deny was that even from his desk at some nondescript Public Safety branch office Nicolo was a part of this process. He wondered how many pieces of data he had decoded or analyzed had been pushed along in the chain to eventually trigger a shoot-out like the one he was watching. Not knowing how to feel about all this Corelli muttered "It's...impressive."

"That it is" replied Alboreto softly. "It's alright to not like it though. It would take a depraved mind to actually enjoy the things we're called upon to do."

Feeling bold, Nicolo retorted with caution "But I understand you've been doing it your whole life."

"It's a living" sighed Elio "I needed a job after leaving school and the Army sounded like a reasonable idea. Three and a half decades later here I am watching a gang of young girls train to kill terrorists. Odd how fast that time passes..."

"So once you're committed to a life like this it's not possible to get out?" asked the younger man, wondering how the situation applied to him.

That question definitely seemed to give Alboreto pause to think. "I've seen people bow out and go on to lead happy lives. Alternately I've seen people leave an find themselves unable to cope. Some come back...others fall apart. There is no typical case."

"And you?"

Elio laughed a bit and answered "I tried to quit, but the Chief talked me into coming to work for him. Probably a good thing too; the longer I stay here at the SWA the more I get to thinking I'd have been one of those people who fall apart." He paused for a moment and muttered "There's another reason I've done this so long. See that red-headed one down there?" He pointed at Petrushka. "She was once talking about how _bad people can always protect good people from really bad ones_. For me it goes deeper than that. Remember how I said it would take a depraved mind to enjoy the things we do? Well if I wasn't here maybe one of those depraved individuals might be standing here, filling the spot I neglected. That thought, Corelli, is one of the few things truly worth being afraid of."

"And what about the cyborgs?" Nicco asked "From what I've seen none of them have a problem with the things they have to do."

"Good observation." Alboreto nodded and leaned back, out of Dario's line of sight. He motioned toward Nicco's cyborg, indicating that he did not wish to discuss things in front of her, silently mouthing the word "_later_."

Just as Nicolo was nodding in response a loud blast of rapid gunfire rang out right underneath where he was standing. Caught by surprise, the new agent jumped back in shock, drawing a few snickers from more seasoned handlers. "HQ Objective secured!" Giada shouted out, "Make a final sweep and report in!" That was the last of the gunfire, and over the next sixty seconds all five of her team members called back that their section was clear. "Sir, all mission objectives complied with!"

"7 minutes, 34 seconds" announced the short haired man in combat dress, "Alright everyone it's now 11:49, let's break for lunch and meet back here at 1300!"

Elio turned to his two companions. "I understand it's the bi-weekly_ International Cuisine Day_ at the dining hall, which means our Italian cooks are making a somewhat hapless attempt at Hawaiian fare. As I doubt any of us are tremendously eager to sample _Pineapple gnocchi con formaggio_ I suggest we just head for downtown Rome and grab lunch there. Dario agreed wholeheartedly, and Nicco decided it was best to go with the flow of things.

They had walked out to the training grounds so both Dario & Nicolo were happy to hear Mr. Alboreto had his car right there, precluding the need for another long hike. However, once they arrived at the dirt parking lot adjacent to the shoot house Nicolo gave another heavy sigh of frustration. "A BMW M3?" he muttered, "Are exotic sports cars some kind of requirement around here?"

"What do you mean?" asked Elio.

"Giuseppe Croce picked me up yesterday in his brother's Mercedes CL...Henrietta told me he drives a Porsche most of the time."

"That has nothing to do with the Agency" explained Elio "those two come from a very affluent family."

"What about the Ferrari I saw in the parking lot?"

"Ah," Alboreto replied "One of Michele's."

"One of them?" exclaimed Corelli, "How many does he have?"

The gray bearded man shrugged his shoulders and said "I don't think even _he_ knows. A few of them are always on loan to museums around Europe. He only has three he drives on a regular basis...the 458 you saw, a Fiorano, and a 456, although you don't see that one much since he picked up the 599."

"What about the Murciélago and the Gallardo?" Dario piped up.

"Those are Lamborghini's...Signor Corelli was only asking about the Ferrari's."

"Two Lamborghini's too?" coughed Nicco, beginning to feel faint.

"He's got a collection, but that has nothing to do with the Agency either" said Elio, "Michele made most of his money in the American stock market. Those guys tend to be an exception though. Let's see, McDonnell & Blacker each drive Audi's, Priscilla's got a VW Beetle...a new one, not an original, Fernando has a Porsche but it's an older one...and I've got this." Alboreto thought for a moment and added "Of course, I do have this M3 specifically because of the Agency."

"Arturo has an Opel Calibra" sighed Dario. Nicco noticed her use of the present tense in referring to her deceased handler. _It must still be really difficult for her._

After letting the engine warm up for a few moments Elio slipped the car into first gear and rolled out of the gravel lot. Being only his second day Corelli still did not know his way around compound but the cyborg in the back seat noticed something she thought was odd. "Sir, aren't we going to the front gate?"

"Well, your handler probably wants to do some shopping for a few convenience items while we're in the city" Elio suggested, "after all I doubt he wants to keep using the same deodorant Henrietta prefers." Dario got a brief chuckle out of that, but kept herself politely reserved. "I doubt they've gotten your handler's expense account set up yet."

"_I_ have an expense account?" muttered Nicolo with surprise. He'd seen enormous amounts of money being thrown around at Special Operations but this was the first hint of some of it being thrown his way.

"You will" said Alboreto, "it's important...you're not only managing your expenses, but you're responsible for seeing to your cyborg's needs as well. Clothing, sundries, school supplies, rewards...eh..._personal items_." That last item sent Nicco into a cold-sweat flashback of being forced to run to the store by his older sister, and the mortifying experience of being caught by his school friends in the dreaded _feminine hygiene_ aisle. He desperately hoped Dario was capable of handling that bit of shopping on her own.

Elio continued; "You'll have a government issued credit card...makes things a lot easier because you don't have to keep receipts. In addition you'll carry what we call a _bribery roll_ for...well, the name says it all. Since I'm sure they don't have your card ready yet we're just going over to the cashier's window to draw you some petty cash for expenses. It's over on Section One's side of the compound."

It was a short drive over to the opposite end of the facility. Some handlers considered Section One's area to be enemy territory, but to Nicolo it was just another cluster of buildings. Alboreto had no qualms about setting foot on the rival section's piece of earth either...he listened to his old friend Lorenzo's gripes about Section One's Chief Draghi with sympathy but did not deign to participate in the rivalry himself. As a consequence he was greeted warmly at the cashier's window. "_Buongiorno_ Mr. A, good to see you again" greeted a middle aged woman, but her face did not look as cheerful as her greeting had been, "here on business or a social call?"

"Nothing for me today, but Signor Corelli here could probably use a few euros to get him by until his Agency account is activated." Elio paused and added in a somber tone "I was really sorry to hear about Rafael."

She nodded gravely. "Thank you...it's been so awkward around here this morning. Most of us knew last night but it's been like everyone is walking around in a fog. Nobody really feels like getting any work done, and there's still his office to clean out."

"It's always like that" sighed the Section 2 agent, "I'll drop by after work today to see if there's anything I can help with. But now I'm here to get our new colleague here started off. Nicolo Corelli, is he in the system yet?"

The woman took a few seconds to type his name in and replied with a little more cheer "Yes, he's right here...your credit card should be in tomorrow and your new Special Operations ID will be ready by this afternoon."

"How about some petty cash for while he's waiting?" Alboreto asked.

"Of course...I'll need to see your existing ID, Signor Corelli." She checked his Public Safety card. "Hmm...don't see these very often around here. How much do you need?"

Nicco was not sure what to ask for. Some toiletries couldn't cost that much..._but maybe I should ask for a little more so I can pick up my half of the lunch tab. Oh...I'm responsible for Dario too...better ask for a little more. I wonder if __€50 is too much to ask for._ Luckily Elio answered for him: "The usual ought to do it" he told her. Without hesitation the cashier placed an envelope on the counter, and a form for Corelli to sign. After the disorganized first day he was having he was so pleased with himself for having a pen ready that he neglected to read the form.

"Very good" she said, "we'll just deduct that from your expense account once it's up and running."

"Thank you" said Nicolo. The envelope felt kind of thick for €50, he hoped she hadn't given a whole stack of €5 notes...he always felt awkward counting out a bunch of them to a waiter.

After exchanging a few more somber pleasantries Alboreto & Corelli walked back out to the parking lot where Dario was waiting. "Did something bad happen?" the young analyst asked once they were out of earshot of the cashier.

"Unfortunately Section One lost of of their own last night" he sighed "Rafael Medino took a bullet in an ambush yesterday and died in surgery that evening. Damn shame...everybody liked him."

Nicco felt a deep tension in his chest, like he had to force himself to breathe manually. Medino had been the man in the hospital at the same time he had been having his biometric readings and MRI scan done. He had _died_ while Nicco was out drinking with the other handlers. Beyond his elderly relatives Corelli had never known anyone who died but for some reason the news of this man's death, a man he'd never met, felt like it was crushing the air out of him.

"Hey," growled Alboreto, "you get your head straight, _capito_? If you want to grieve for the man that's fine, but there will be a time for that later. Right now there's other things you need to be focusing on."

"Yes sir" said Nicco.

"Don't call me _sir_, you're not a bloody cyborg" muttered the senior man. As they stepped outside and Nicco got a breath of the cooler air he felt progressively better.

Once they had made their way back to the BMW Corelli finally took a peek inside the envelope. _Jesus...this can't be right..._ "Um, Elio...Mr. Alboreto, she gave me the wrong envelope. This is full of hundreds and fifties." _Oh fuck...I just signed for this! I've overdrawn my expense account on the first day!_

Elio peered over curiously and muttered "An even thousand, right? That's what they normally give out. You don't need more than that, do you?"

All the blood rushed out of Nicolo Corelli's face "A _thousand_ euros?" he gasped. It was more than the annual office supplies budget for his Public Safety branch. He'd never in his life had a full thousand euros in his pocket. "Is this what's considered normal at Special Ops?"

Driving slowly toward the front gate the older agent shrugged and replied "Pretty much...we're only going into Rome so that should be enough. Believe me, throw out a few bribes and you'll be _shocked_ at how quickly that evaporates. You should give Dario a bit of cash too, just in case we get separated." Taking his advice Nicco counted out what he thought was fair but Alboreto snapped "Bloody hell Corelli, not _half_ of it! Who their right mind gives €500 to a thirteen year old?"

"I have no objection to that" Dario piped up from the back seat.

"We're talking about _taxi money_ here" muttered the older man "€50 is _more_ than sufficient."

It was all going so fast. All morning Nicolo had not had time to get used to one surprise before another one hit. Struggling to get a hold of himself Corelli admitted "I'm sorry...I must be acting like a ridiculous novice, but this morning has been one shock after another for me. I'm screwing up everything."

Sensing the new agent under his tutelage was already near his breaking point before even leaving the compound Elio softened his tone; "It's alright lad," he assured Nicco, implying nothing pejorative or condescending by the youthful appellation. "I've been doing this 35 years...it's your first day. Competence and confidence go hand in hand, and I promise you both will come with time. Just remember that the Agency sought you out. The best in the business wanted you on the team because you're the right man for this job. If Pieri Lorenzo trusts in you, so should Nicolo Corelli."

Feeling humbled, but a great deal more relaxed Nicco replied "Thank you." It was actually a relief to him to be reminded that he was _expected_ to be a hapless idiot on the first day. "About the money...I was just a little blown away. I've never even held this much cash at one time."

"I grew up on government benefits and whatever my single mother could scrape together working three jobs" Elio told him. "I might be driving a nice car now but believe me I never lose perspective on how much money really means."

"Are you carrying €1,000 too?" asked Nicolo.

Elio replied without a hint of conceit "Two thousand five hundred, plus my government card & what personal cash I've got in my wallet."

"Aren't you concerned about getting mugged?"

Alboreto stopped the car 200 meters short of the guard shack and allowed his head to slump against the steering wheel in abject frustration. He said nothing, and the entire car was silent until Dario finally reached forward and tugged on Nicolo's jacket. "Mr. Corelli, sir...that is why you have a _bodyguard_."

**_Roma_**

Over lunch at a Greek restaurant near the _Parco di Traiano_ Corelli & Alboreto decided to check out a few of the art galleries where the murders had taken place. There was one just a few blocks away, and since Elio had found free parking (compliments of his SWA vehicle pass) in the lot of a civil services building they decided to leave the BMW and go on foot.

This first gallery was not a public museum but a private establishment where paintings were bought and sold. It was the kind of place Nicolo didn't get to visit much...he couldn't afford anything in these high-end galleries and although there was no rule against looking the impatient salespersons hovering over him made enjoying the art impossible.

The head salesman wasted no time; "_Signore's_, welcome, may I be of assistance?" he asked as soon as Corelli, Dario & Alboreto had entered. Nicolo looked over at his fellow agent but rather than speaking first Elio gave a slow tip of his head to indicate that Nicco himself should do the talking.

"Yes actually" he began "We're from the City Police, and we're looking into the murder which occurred here. With your permission we'd like to have a look around." It was a cover story that he and Alboreto had practiced over lunch...the older man having explained that they did not _need_ the gallery's permission to look around but acting with a degree of deference might ensure cooperation from the staff.

The salesman seemed disappointed by the fact that they were not customers, but he did not obstruct them. "Certainly, although I have no idea what else you might find. This business was shut down for a week while every police agency imaginable made their inspections. Rome Police, Carabinieri, Public Safety and even a few gentlemen who I suspect may have been part of the secret service. As it was with all of them my staff is completely at your service." _Perhaps this could turn out good _the salesman considered, _one of those Carabinieri officers actually came back three days later and bought a painting_.

"We won't trouble you for long" Corelli promised, "we just need to take a look around."

Something then caught the man's eye. He had not noticed Dario before. "Young lady, this is not a place for children" he warned, ready to chase her out the door. Young people roaming around the streets at this hour instead of being in school were usually delinquents.

"Oh she's with us!" Nicco quickly corrected him, but then froze when he realized he had no explanation ready for why a 13 year old girl was tagging around with the City Police instead of sitting in class. Already the salesman looked puzzled.

Dario rescued the situation brilliantly; "I got suspended from school," she groaned in a petulant tone "my brother thinks dragging me along with him while he visits boring crime scenes and interviews witnesses will scare me back onto the straight & narrow."

"Ah, I see" muttered the gallery man with raised eyebrows, "you are fortunate to have a brother so concerned with your moral welfare. Please feel free to have your look and ask any of my staff if you have questions."

Once they had been left alone Nicolo turned to his cyborg and whispered "That was really good!" Alboreto tossed in a nod of approval as well.

"It was embarrassing though," she complained "can we work out a better cover story for me before the next stop?"

"But it's perfect, and you thought so fast!" praised her handler.

Dario was not convinced. "It's humiliating! How would you like it if you had to go around all day explaining to people that you're being punished?"

"Dario I agree with Mr. Corelli" contributed Elio, "it's a very good cover story."

"Really?" she replied, "Okay then." Nicco felt that envious itch again.

Eager to provide himself with distraction Corelli began to walk around taking notes on what paintings hung where. While he did that Alboreto questioned the staff about the forced entry and the damage to the back door. Without anything else to do Dario idled around and looked at some of the paintings.

"Shouldn't she be staying closer to me?" Nicolo inquired of Alboreto.

"Don't just watch _her_," the gray-beard recommended, "look at that head salesman we spoke to. He hasn't taken his eyes off her...he's convinced she's going to try to steal something."

"Is she?"

"Don't be stupid, of course not!" snapped Elio, "She's doing her job, keeping the staff distracted so you & I can work."

Nicco was beginning to feel a sincere respect for the cyborg he was teamed up with. "She's smart."

"Smart, well trained, quick thinking...you could certainly do worse for a partner" mused Alboreto. "Don't lose sight of the fact that she's your subordinate though. She can certainly contribute to your success, but if the results don't come it's on your head, not her's." Nicolo nodded to show his understanding.

When he had documented the location of every work in the gallery Corelli checked with the staff to make sure nothing had been moved since the murder. He drew it all out on a map, carefully noting the location and position of the body. "Alright, I'm done here" he announced. Elio had finished up some minutes ago so they went looking for Dario, who they found gazing at a painting near the back of the gallery.

"You like that one?" asked Nicolo.

She nodded. "It's realistic, not like the abstract modern art. I don't really understand that stuff. Is it very old?"

"Not at all" said Nicolo, "in fact it's by a new artist who only began showing his work a year or so ago. Filippo Adani...he's got good technique I suppose, but no truly inspired eye."

"What does that mean?" asked the cyborg.

Thrilled that his new partner was showing a bit of interest Nicco fought to contain his emotion so that he would not overdo it and scare her off of art forever. "This is a very good imitation of the old masters techniques, but that's all it is...imitation. For an artist to be truly exceptional he or she needs to develop a unique style that distinguishes them from the rest. Some do that by coming up with an unexpected technique that's never been seen before like the abstract artists you're not fond of." Dario seemed a little disappointed by his less than enthusiastic assessment of her favorite painting in the gallery. It showed on her face, so Nicco acted quickly to recover; "Adani will probably have a reasonably successful career selling his work to people who want to decorate their homes with authentic Italian art. Tourists travel from all around the world looking for that sort of thing. But it may be a few hundred years before his paintings are of any serious collector value."

As they exited together Nicolo was surprised to hear Elio toss in a few words "It's not uncommon for an artist to gain widespread popularity only after death. Paul Gauguin...Vincent van Gogh...Charles Strickland. They were all known in artistic circles but during their lives they were hardly the household names they are today." Alboreto must have seen the change in his companion's expression because he added "Don't look so astonished Corelli. I may not have the formal education you do but if you added your age to that of _both_ our cyborgs combined you still wouldn't have as many years looking at paintings as I do."

**_The Book Collection_**

The three visited one more gallery that afternoon, but with the autumn sunlight already fading Elio proposed that they attend to any shopping Nicco (and Dario) might need to do. It was not difficult to find the few items Nicolo needed, and much to his relief Dario did not need much more than incidentals. Having gone without a handler for some weeks (thus unable to escape the confines of the compound) the cyborg had been running low on many supplies. Although she could draw the basics from the Agency stock these were the same soaps and shampoos that Nicolo had been issued the night before. While appropriate for the younger girls (indeed _preferred_ by Henrietta) they were considered very _uncool_ amongst the older cyborgs. Dario herself sat on the boarder-line between the junior & senior cliques of the SWA dormitory, but it was always best to be _perceived_ as part of the more fashionable group, and thus she breathed a heavy sigh of relief at being able to replenish her supplies of trendy bath products before having to resort to the dreaded agency-issued _pink stuff_. Her new handler even indulged her in a ration of junk food to keep around the room...deferring all the time to Alboreto who gave subtle nods and head shakes to indicate what was approved of and forbidden in the dormitory.

Once their shopping bags were put away in the BMW's trunk Corelli ventured to ask for one more side-trip. "I've been wearing the same suit for two days;" he admitted sheepishly, more concerned by the fact that he'd been wearing the same socks & underwear for an equal period "do you think we could drop by my apartment so I could grab some clothes? It's not far."

Nicolo spoke the truth, although even he did not realize how close they were to his residence. On the bus or on foot it was a 15 minute trip, but in a private car the trio arrived at Nicco's building in under five.

"Can I see your apartment?" asked Dario. Among Agency cyborgs it was considered a great privilege to be admitted to the private abode of one's handler...a privilege which elevated the girl's prestige in the eyes of her peers. Even though Nicolo Corelli was not considered a _real handler_ by the SWA girls (_He isn't even certified to carry a pistol!_ the rumour had spread) a degree of esteem was better than nothing in Dario's eyes.

Alboreto cast a disapproving glance at the younger agent, but it was too late. "Sure, you should both come up!" he answered cheerfully. Nicco was interpreting the cyborg's interest as a sign that he was doing well.

There was no elevator in Corelli's building, and he lived on the third floor. This was only an issue on grocery days though, as the unit had come furnished and he had bought no new furniture since moving in.

A stout woman poked her head out of a first floor doorway and called out "Signor Corelli! Have you got extra people staying at your apartment?"

"No Mrs. Maggiacomo...these are just some friends from work" answered the young man. He turned to Alboreto & Dario; "That's the building manager."

"Friends from work!" she yelled back, "You hate the people you work with!"

"Not these people" Corelli was happy to answer.

She shook her head disapprovingly and muttered "Well if you're letting extra people stay you need to pay the surcharge for them. There was an awful lot of noise for just one person last night!"

Another voice, this one male, echoed from inside Mrs. Maggiacomo's apartment; "Gladia, mind your own business and leave that boy in peace, will you!"

As the married couple argued Nicco turned to his companions with a bit of embarrassment and laughed "I don't know how they could have heard any noise from my apartment over all the bickering they do!"

Elio did not return his laugh..his face was locked in a grim scowl. "I don't know how they heard noise from your apartment when you were sleeping at the Agency last night" he growled.

"Oh my god..." muttered Corelli. That bit of information had totally slipped past him, but it obviously had not gone unnoticed by Alboreto and the cyborg. "Who do you think...?"

"Who do _you_ think?" hissed the older man.

"Do you think we should call the police?" asked Nicco.

Elio did not make eye contact. "Just stay behind Dario & I" he ordered.

The cyborg was first up the stairs, dashing up two flights in just seconds and clearing the floor with her pistol drawn. At a nod from Dario the two men followed, Alboreto checking every door as they made their way down the hall. "None of these have been tampered with" he observed, keeping his voice low.

"This one has, sir" reported Dario, with her weapon leveled at a door near the end of the hall.

"That's...that's m-mine" Nicolo confirmed. He wondered if Dario could hear his heart pounding in his chest now. The frame was broken, the doorknob looked as if it had been cored out with a punch & hammer.

"Permission to enter, sir" asked the cyborg.

"Eh, sure" muttered Nicolo, but she was obviously not waiting for his command. Although Corelli was her handler she was deferring to Alboreto in this situation.

The older man nodded. "Carefully..." he whispered, "...someone could easily be inside. Remember your danger areas, don't forget closets and under the beds. This guy is definitely part of the intelligence community so he'll be savvy to our tactics."

The girl did not show a hint of fear, her jaw set tightly, eyes alert, every muscle ready to react. "Mr. Alboreto, please stay with my handler" she asked. Without waiting for an answer she kicked the door, charged inside and began clearing rooms just as Nicolo had watched the other girls do earlier at the shoot-house. "Main room, clear! Kitchen clear! Hall closet clear!" she reported back. Finally when she shouted "Bedroom, clear!" Nicolo breathed a sigh of relief. He prepared to step inside but Elio held him back.

"Bathroom, Nicolo" muttered the senior agent, making Corelli feel very dumb & vulnerable.

In seconds Dario confirmed the last room was safe "Bathroom clear...nobody is here sir!"

"Make a heat sweep..." ordered Elio, "...can you tell if anyone has been here recently?"

"It's all cold sir" she replied.

At least this time Nicco knew what that meant; Nurse Camilla Avillia had told him all about how cyborg eyes could see a greater band-width of light than those of ordinary humans. "It's really quite fascinating," she had explained as he waited for the MRI to begin, "go ahead and look around the room...now close your eyes. Did you see anything purple? You can't remember, can you? That's because you weren't looking for it. You can open your eyes now. The girls are the same when it comes to infrared. They see it all the time but if they're not _looking_ for a heat signature they don't _perceive_ it...same as you just did with that purple chair in the corner."

The condition of his apartment distracted Nicco from any deeper thoughts about cyborgs and their ocular capabilities. The furniture was undamaged and the television untouched. The DVD player still held the disk he had fallen asleep watching two days prior. The bookcases however, where utterly destroyed. Every single volume had been cast upon the floor at the very least...some had been torn apart at the spine. Corelli dropped to his knees at the sight of it all, nearly driven to tears by the wanton destruction.

"I don't get it" muttered Dario, "nothing valuable is missing & the only thing ruined is some books." The comment earned her a sharp glance from Elio, who understood how important these books were to Nicco.

"Of all the things he could have destroyed..." sighed Corelli despondently, "...why did it have to be these?" He held in his trembling hands a copy of _The Travels of Marco Polo_, large chunks of pages cruelly torn from its binding. "I've had this book since I was eight years old."

The cyborg did not know how to console her new handler, nor did she even understand his attachment to these replaceable objects, so Dario did the only thing that made sense at the moment and stood guard near the door. "I'm sorry, Nicolo" said Alboreto softly, "but look at this like an investigator. We know it wasn't ordinary thieves who did this...you were paid a visit by the _Assassino d'Essai_. He knows who you are, and he knew how to hurt you."

"You think he's sending me a message?" asked Nicco.

"I think he came here planning to kill you" Alboreto replied, "and when you were not here he ruined the things he knew you cherished."

Corelli sighed. "He didn't even bother to lure me to an art gallery like the rest...that shows how seriously he takes me."

"Prove him wrong" growled Elio, "_catch_ the bastard. If he wants to make this personal then personal it shall be."

Nicco inflated his lungs slowly. "Right then" he resolved. "I'll need help though. What do I do next?"

"Simple" replied the more experienced agent, "you call in the cavalry. Telephone the Agency switchboard and get Ferro to send a forensic team over. Let our own people get first crack at the evidence before the Rome police."

With a nod of understanding Nicolo pulled out his mobile phone and speed dialed the number he had been provided. "Tourism Promotion Agency; Rome Office."

"This is Corelli, Main Office, Section Two...put me through to Ferro Milani please."

**_The Killer Dogs_**

Section Two's team (consisting of Ferro herself, a hawkish looking blonde guy named Alphonso and a towering Somali man called Nihad) was still working in Nicco's apartment when Nicolo, Elio & Dario left. The city police had shown up and given Corelli a hard time about taking his clothes and a few books from the crime scene, but they were silenced by the intervention of a Detective named Enzo, who seemed to be a friend of Section Two.

Dario was silent for most of the drive home, despite Nicolo's efforts to draw her into the conversation. They arrived at the front gate around 5pm, and for the third time the Public Safety credentials Nicco held caused a delay. It would be the last time though, as Priscilla came zipping down on her yellow Vespa with new identification cards for both handler and cyborg. "Come see me as soon as you get back to the office complex" she instructed "I have your room lined up...you won't have to sleep in Claes' library tonight."

"Thanks" said the young man, accepting the cards. He was happy to hear the girl in glasses would not have to surrender her private library because of him, but it still stirred up sad feelings about the destruction of his own collection. He took a bit of cheer from his new ID though. It was glossy & unblemished, emblazoned with the words CORRELI, NICOLO; SPECIAL OPERATIONS-SECTION TWO. He gave Dario's a look before handing it to her in the back seat. Her's was slightly different: NAME: DARIO, and on the line beneath HANDLER: CORELLI. Though his own new ID left Nicco swollen with pride Dario seemed apathetic about hers. _Probably because she's going to have to turn in her old ID with Arturo's name on it now_ he realized.

Alboreto piloted the M3 into the parking lot at the center of Section Two's small cluster of buildings (Nicco thought he detected a twitch of envy from the older man as he watched Priscilla negotiate the same distance on two wheels), and shut the engine down. "It's been an interesting day" he sighed. "Not often we get paid to spend an afternoon checking out art galleries."

"I wish I could do it every day" laughed Nicco. He looked back to see if his comment drew any response from his cyborg. Dario just stared out the window, utterly disinterested. Anxious to end the difficult day on a good note Corelli drew some pamphlets from his bag the kind that were given away free at museums...items which he had salvaged from his apartment. "We'll be going to some museums tomorrow, Dario. I'd like it if you read these tonight so you have some background information on what we'll be looking at. None of them are too long."

She took them from him, gave them a cursory glance and tossed them back up into the front seat. "I'm your bodyguard, Mr. Corelli, not an investigator."

Disappointed by her lack of interest Nicolo struggled for what to say next. He collected the pamphlets carefully, but when he looked up Corelli was shocked to find himself locked in the angry gaze of Elio Alboreto. Beneath bushy gray brows his eyes darted back and forth between cyborg & new handler, but for the seconds they were fixed on himself Nicco felt as if they were boring into his very soul. _I have no idea what I'm supposed to do!_

Finally Alboreto could take it no longer. "Dario, your handler gave you an order!" he barked, "Now take your pamphlets...you will have a one page essay completed by tomorrow morning summarizing their content. Two copies handwritten, one for Mr. Corelli, one for me. In addition I want six laps of the obstacle course before sundown!"

With a sigh of resignation Dario collected the literature proffered by Nicolo's now trembling hand, tucked them into her shopping bag and got out of the car, trudging off to the dormitory to change into her workout clothes. Nicco now felt very vulnerable being in the car alone with the fearsome Alboreto. In just instants he had come to understand that the man merited the reputation he had. "She deserved a full _twelve_ laps" grumbled the older man, laying back on the head-rest "but it's late...she needs to be finished before the dining hall closes up." He turned back to Nicolo and continued in the same tone "She was testing you Corelli, pushing her limits...and she _won_ that round."

"She has to go run laps of the obstacle course and write a punishment essay, and she won?" It didn't make much sense to Nicco.

Alboreto softened his tone, but still growled. "I said she was testing _you_. She already knew what to expect from me, but you let her walk all over you."

Nicolo was not sure what to say. "It really wasn't that big a deal" he finally replied, "besides, she has a point, she's supposed to protecting me, not helping with the investigation."

Elio shook his head. "The issue was that you gave her an order. In an ordinary cyborg-handler relationship she would be compelled by conditioning to obey. In most cases cyborgs mimic their handler's interests so it becomes a labour of love. Your case is entirely different though, and new to us. In order for you and Dario to work as a fratello you will need to establish who calls the shots."

"I don't think I'm the kind of person who can do that" sighed Nicco, "you know, bark orders and command people's respect. I've watched you and the other handlers interact with the cyborgs and they seem to _want_ your approval. Jeeze, what about that girl you cracked in the head with your knuckles this morning? She was _smiling at you_ a minute after you hit her!"

"Then you need to find another way with Dario" answered Elio. "Unfortunately you had an opportunity to win some loyalty just a minute ago and you missed that too."

"Aww what did I do wrong now?"

Elio explained "You could have defended her from me. I'm not her handler...you are. If you really felt it would be counter-productive to discipline her you should have spoken up and countermanded my order."

"You can't be serious" groaned Corelli, "look, nothing personal but you scare the shit out of me Mr. Alboreto. I am not ready to start _countermanding_ your orders."

"I would have accepted it & backed you up" he informed the new agent. Alboreto paused to let that sink in for a moment before continuing; "Back during the American war in Vietnam...after the French left...the US Army used extremely vicious attack dogs for in-country patrols. These animals, mostly German Shepherds, were absolute killing machines but they were emphatically loyal to their handlers...even to the death. It was nothing for a dog to die defending their master.

"One of the methods they used to inspire such loyalty was to abuse the animals during training...beat them with barbed wire. Then the dogs designated handler would be introduced, and he would defend his charge from the beating. The dogs quickly accepted that everyone in the world would hurt them except their own handler. Do you see where I'm going with this, Corelli?"

Nicolo had gone white as a sheet at the story. It was horrible enough to do that to a dog, but..."Mr. Alboreto, never in a thousand years could I condone..."

The old spy covered his own face with an open palm in frustration. "Christ on a bicycle Nicco! Nobody is suggesting we beat a thirteen year old girl with barbed wire! It's the parallel I'm trying to point out. Show your cyborg that she can count on you and the loyalty will come."

"Oh" replied Nicolo, accompanied by a sigh of relief, "I think I can do that."

"There is no _think_ here...you're a cyborg handler" rumbled Alboreto, "you must be able to establish a working relationship with this girl. It can be friendly if you can manage that but you absolutely must be the one in command."

"Why is that so important?" asked Corelli, "It was tense between us today but she was there to cover me when I needed her. Even when she cleared my apartment she did not leave my side without asking you to look after me...I noticed that." Showing a bit of nerve he ventured "What is it with establishing dominance over these girls? Is that sort of thing a requirement for the job, or is it just the basic personality of people like you?" He genuinely hoped Alboreto would not take offense and kill him for that rant.

Alboreto did not take offense. He even seemed to understand the young man's point of view. That did not mean he could accept it though; "I'll explain why it's so important to show your cyborg who is in charge. Do you remember what I was saying this morning about men with no conscience working in our profession?" Nicolo nodded, remembering their conversation above the shoot-house. "We must always be vigilant about identifying a person with a depraved mind in this vocation. These cyborgs, Mr. Corelli, are those depraved minds. They do not recognize guilt, they do not display pity, many actually enjoy the things we call on them to do. It's not their fault, we made them that way, but just like those who created the killer dogs of the US Army we have the responsibility to never let our creation get off its leash. You are the conscience of your fratello, Nicolo, never forget that and never place your team in a position where the conscience is not in full command. It's not a _control-freak_ issue...it's something we owe to these children. The Agency made them into weapons and took away their own ability to see the moral consequences of their actions...we as handlers have been given responsibility over their very souls."

The two men were silent for over a minute, until Nicco asked "So what happens when these girls grow up? Do they ever develop a conscience of their own?"

Elio turned to look at him and answered with grim honesty; "They will never grow up. A cyborg does not age, and lives a very limited lifespan. The specifics will be in your reading, but the most we can hope for from these girls is seven years. By that time the brain has suffered too much stress as a result of growth inhibition and the conditioning drugs." He paused for a moment and added "In a way we handlers are lucky. Those dogs I mentioned were for the most part euthanized after their role in combat. They could not be de-trained and reintroduced to civilian life...they were weapons. In many cases the handlers themselves chose to terminate their own animal. Can you imagine surviving a tour in combat, and the last thing you have to do before returning home is kill the partner who has been by your side the whole time? It was the only way though. At least with cyborgs we handlers don't have to push the needle in ourselves...although I suppose we do, each little bit at a time."

Again, silence. The sun was getting low in the sky, and all around them Agency members were getting into their cars to go home. "You'd better go find Priscilla; she had CQ duty last night so she's probably eager to get home this evening. Oh yeah...the dining hall stops serving at 1830."

"Umm, that's..." Nicolo tried to do the math.

"6:30pm" muttered Alboreto.

"Are you coming too?" asked Corelli.

Elio thought for a moment then said "Yes, I think I'll be along later. I haven't checked on my own cyborg since this morning, she's probably feeling a bit neglected. You go ahead without me though...I sent Dario out to the obstacle course so I won't eat myself until she's done running her disciplinary laps. That's just a personal quirk with me, you're not obligated to follow it. For now I'm going to drive over to Section One...I told them I'd drop by to see how they were doing...you remember they lost a man last night."

Nicolo gave a nod. After thanking Alboreto for the training today he exited the BMW and went to go check in with Priscilla. It did not take long, she only had a room key to present him with before hurrying out the door. The new agent then crossed the parking lot to the dining hall, but he waited until he saw Dario returning from her run before going inside himself.

**_The Girl in Glasses_**

The room was sparsely furnished but at least it was _his_. There was a basic wooden desk with a brass lamp, and a twin size bed, unmade but with fresh sheets folded at the foot. The bookcases were conspicuously empty but rather than brood over his lost collection Nicolo resolved to fill them as quickly as his paycheck allowed. Perhaps some of his old books were salvageable with a bit of careful restoration work. Before even putting his clothes away Nicco pulled out the few tomes he had taken from his apartment and set them on the shelves, but things still would not look right until they were full. Immediately Nicolo's mind turned to a place he could find a few more volumes to fill the empty space.

Corelli knocked softly on the door of Claes' library. Nicco did not expect the girl to be there at this late hour...surely she had friends and socializing to do back at the dormitory. To his surprise the door _did_ open. She stood before him, rubbing her eyes, her dark hair comically disheveled. "Oh, good evening Mr. Corelli."

"Good evening, Claes." He was proud to show off that he knew her name now, compliments of the day spent with Dario & Mr. Alboreto. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Yes you did," she replied without spite, "and thank you for it. After dinner I came over to read a bit...things were kind of noisy in the dorm tonight...and I guess I dozed off. The last time I did that I woke up at 1am and got caught sneaking back to the dorm. I tried to explain, but the CQ officer was Mr. Mancini so you can imagine how _that_ went. Two hours of marching the square, for a _whole week_."

"Really?" muttered Nicolo, unable to reconcile the garrulous, singing Bersagliere with the kind of man who would sentence a smart, well-mannered girl to a week-long punishment for the modest offense of being up past her bed-time. "Are you talking about _Avise Mancini_? The Major who lives here in the office building?"

Observing his disbelief Claes casually explained "He's a lot different around us cyborgs." She turned to allow him into the room and offered "Are you sleeping here again tonight? I'll remake the bed for you."

"Oh no, nothing like that!" Nicco replied "Miss Priscilla fixed me up with my own room. Sorry about this morning by the way. I was a little...um..."

"Hung over?" giggled Claes, "Don't worry Mr. Corelli, that's a time honored tradition here in the handler's building."

"It was still embarrassing for both of us, I'm sorry" he apologized sincerely. "I'll quit bothering you now...I just came over to get the books I left."

Claes whipped around eagerly and found the stack of instructional manuals he had gotten at the hospital. "Here they are sir!" she said with a smile. _Jeeze, why can't I get my own cyborg to smile like that? _"I set them on the shelf so they'd be safe."

Nicco regarded the girl's bookshelves with good natured envy. "You sure have a lot...of books I mean."

"Some of them have been here as long as I can remember, but I've added to the collection" she explained, proud to show off her library to an interested adult who seemed to share her passion. This man seemed like a refreshing change from the rest of the Agency adults, who either ignored her, pitied her or patronized her. "You told me you love books as well...you must have some interesting ones."

That send a painful pang through Corelli's heart, and Claes detected it immediately by his body language. "Actually" he admitted "I had a lot of very interesting volumes. I would have loved to share them with you, but something very unfortunate happened last night." Feeling too weak to tell the story while standing Nicolo sat down in the chair. As Claes sat herself down opposite him on the bed he gave the sad explanation of finding his prized book collection in tatters this very afternoon.

Sympathy was evident on the face of Claes, who sat with her mouth open in dismay throughout his whole story. "Mr. Corelli I'm so sorry," she commiserated "a person who would destroy something just because you love it...there are no words for someone as vile, loathsome & utterly reprehensible as that."

"I think you just picked a few good ones" Nicco chuckled. She joined him in a laugh, but in doing so revealed that she was getting a little choked up. "Claes, what's wrong? Please don't worry about it so much, they're only _things_."

"Sorry," answered the blushing girl, struggling to regain composure "it's just that sometimes I really feel like crying about something, like now, but the tears just won't come. I'm really, really sorry about your library Mr. Corelli. This room is always unlocked, I guess you already know that. Please feel free to come in and borrow a book or two anytime you need one. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you very much, Claes" he replied, deeply humbled, "I will certainly do that, but on one condition." The girl looked puzzled, so he continued "My father is named _Mister Corelli_...my co-workers call me _Mister Corelli_...my landlady calls me _Mister Corelli_. Would you just call me Nicco?"

Claes looked nervous about it and replied "I think I might get in trouble for that in public, but in private that would be nice...Nicco."

He stood up. "I'm glad. I will take you up on your offer, but for tonight I have a lot of work reading to do. Thank you for looking after these for me."

"Thank you for waking me up!" laughed Claes, "Good night Miste...umm..Nicco."

Feeling buoyed up by a successful conversation with one of the cyborgs Nicolo returned to his room feeling clear headed and focused. If he could get along with girls like Triela and Claes he could find a way to make it work with Dario. _Today started off bad...I was late, I wasn't there when she needed me at the shooting range, no wonder I don't have her trust. Tomorrow I start getting it right!_ He felt genuinely positive. It was still early; he had a whole night to study and get some good rest, and one more day to learn from Mr. Alboreto. Thanks to the books tucked under his arm he would soon know a great deal more about cyborgs as well.

Nicolo Corelli sat down and got comfortable before cracking open _The Section Two Handler's Policy Manual_. He pulled the lamp's dangling chain and instantly the pages were bathed in perfect reading light. _Tomorrow,_ Nicco resolved _is when it really begins!_

**END OF CHAPTER THREE**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

It was a little disappointing to Nicolo to find upon opening his office window that he had a view of the parking lot instead of the compound lawns and grove of Tuscan pines that the other side of the building enjoyed. Still, nothing could dampen his mood this morning. He awoke early, well rested and without the throbbing handover of the day before. There was time for a little more reading before Nicolo looked at his wristwatch and decided it was time to get moving.

Corelli was a bit surprised to discover that he was not the first one up. Jacob Mehrandish was shaving in the public bathroom down the hall, his only clothes being the towel around his waist. It was also impossible to ignore Avise Mancini, who apparently did not have to be intoxicated to exercise his singing voice. "Morning Jacob" Nicolo greeted cheerfully. With a razor to his face Mehrandish could only afford to give a polite grunt of acknowledgment to Nicco's reflection in the mirror. It was just as well, any more conversation would have distracted from Avise's serenade, accompanied by the sound of his running shower.

Before entering the shower block himself Nicco took a few moments to run a razor over his own face. Upon reaching his chin the new agent decided to stop. Many of his Section Two colleagues allowed their facial hair to grow, and perhaps a new start called for a new look. He washed his razor and put it away in the clear vinyl bag, granting the stubble on his chin & upper lip a stay of execution.

He carefully folded his flannel pyjamas, laying them on the bench before stepping into his own shower stall. It was pleasing to be met by an instant rush of hot water...it often took as much as five minutes for the pipes in his Rome apartment to heat up sufficiently. His vinyl bag hung right outside the curtain, so Nicolo reached out for a bar of soap and a washcloth. Next he desired shampoo. Temporarily blinded by the soap covering his face Nicco depended on sense of touch to locate his bottle and squeeze out a ration onto his short hair.

"_Oh, damn it_" he cursed internally as the scent of strawberries filled the air. "Too late now" he muttered to himself, lathering up the sweet smelling detergent. "_This is not an omen...this is just a humorous slip-up to laugh about later on today._"

**_Positive mental attitude_**

Dressed & happy to have a clean shirt for the first time in a few days Nicolo headed over to the dining hall, eager to find both breakfast & his cyborg. His fellow agents were just arriving for work, Corelli was beginning to recognize them, associating names with faces freely. Jean Croce, Enzo Desimone, Biff Steele, Victor Hillshire, Olga..._you know, I don't think anyone has told me Olga's last name_.

It was Ferro who noticed him first. "_Buongiorno_, Mr. Corelli, stop by my office before you head out to Rome this afternoon, I'll have a copy of our report on your apartment by 0930."

"Thank you Ms. Milani" he answered with good cheer, "I hope it didn't prevent you from getting home at a reasonable hour."

"Not at all" Ferro replied with a surprised chuckle, "you're in rather high spirits for a man who just had his flat broken into."

"Positive mental attitude!" he announced, "Today I refuse to let anything get me down, and by doing so I anticipate a productive day."

Ferro was not known for her good humour, but she could not help but laugh. "Whatever works for you Mr. Corelli. Let me know how that turns out."

Nicco exchanged morning pleasantries with a few more Agency members as he exited the building and crossing the parking lot on his way to breakfast. Taking the steps two at a time he entered the building and looked around for Dario. She was there, making her selections from the serving line. Corelli walked up behind her, stepping softly in an effort to surprise his cyborg, but her hearing was more than a match for his stealth. "Good morning, sir" she greeted, appearing a good deal more cheerful than yesterday.

"Good morning Dario" he replied, "Special Operations breakfast is new to me, what do you recommend?"

The girl set her tray down and fished a paper out of the notebook she carried in her courier bag. "My essay on those pamphlets you gave me, sir."

"Oh, good" he said, accepting the paper from her, "something to read over breakfast." He had completely forgotten about the assignment she'd been sentenced to for ignoring her handler's order, and it embarrassed Nicco a bit to have her present it to him.

Luckily Dario moved on "You really can't go wrong with any of it...the morning menu is pretty much the same every day so the cooks get lots of practice on this stuff." She gave an awkward glance over to a table where three other girls waited and asked "I told Melanie, Soni & Allison we'd go over our mathematics notes before class; is it okay if I go sit with them?"

"Oh, of course" Nicolo replied. He looked around and noticed that cyborgs & adults were generally sitting at different tables. It made sense that Dario would rather eat with her friends than a boring _grown-up_, and Nicco did not begrudge her that. With a smile she collected her tray and went to sit down with the others. He grinned as well. It had been a successful encounter; that was the first actual smile she had given him.

Once his breakfast had been picked out Nicolo felt eager to read his cyborg's paper so he did not join any of the adult staff at their tables, choosing instead a seat in the corner furthest from the buffet line. Sipping his coffee and finding it too hot he set about looking over the essay while it cooled. "_Not bad_" Corelli thought, "_there's a few things I'd like to explain to her in greater detail, but she's got the basic idea_." His reading was interrupted by a thumping sound to his right though.

Turning his head Nicolo observed the strange sight. A girl younger than Dario had finished her breakfast and was tossing an apple up into the air. As it hovered in front of her for an instant she slashed at it with her knife, knocking a chunk out and sending the fruit thumping in the wall. After each attack she gathered it up and repeated the process.

On one toss the embattled apple rolled free (_a desperate escape attempt?_) and straight to Nicolo's feet. "Oh...sorry!" apologized the girl, who wore her red hair in two braided pig-tails. Nicco picked up the apple and handed it back to her.

"No harm done," he replied "can I ask what you're doing?"

She seemed more than happy to explain; "Well, I saw it in a movie. This samurai guy could toss an apple in the air, cut it in half and catch both halves before the hit the ground. It was pretty cool, but since my handler won't let me have a sword I'm trying to do it with my knife." She looked down at the mess of apple fragments on the floor and wall, adding "So far I haven't figured it out. Wanna try?"

Strangely, Nicco _did_. She handed him another apple from her tray and together they began slashing at their respective fruit in mid-air. Neither was very successful, Corelli could not even hit the apple every time like this cyborg girl could. They even tried tossing the target to each other but neither succeeded in doing much more than hacking a chunk out and knocking their apple into the wall.

"I _do_ hope this is an incidence of Mr. Corelli setting a very bad example" groaned a deep voice from behind them. Both the girl and the man whipped around to find themselves caught red-handed by Elio Alboreto.

Suddenly feeling very foolish about his behavior Nicolo asked "Why do you say that?"

"Because the alternative is that _you_, a grown man, are allowing yourself to be negatively influenced by an _eleven year old_."

Both Nicco & the girl opened their mouths to explain but Alboreto put up his hand to silence them, muttering "It's far too early in the morning to care" before sitting down with his coffee. "So I see you've met my Marisa."

"Ah, Marisa" commented Nicolo, shaking her hand (still sticky with apple juice),

"I think I saw you two days ago, jumping off the..." but he reconsidered & stopped in mid sentence.

Elio finished for him; "...jumping off the dormitory roof with a bed-sheet as a _parachute_."

This Marisa was clearly more than a bit reckless & crazy but she was as quick witted & observant as any cyborg. She picked up on Nicolo's body language instantly. "Hey!" protested the freckled girl "Are you the one who ratted me out to my handler about that?"

Blushing a bit, Corelli admitted "Afraid so. It just kind of slipped out during a meeting in the Chief's office. Sorry."

Crossing her arms in mock anger she complained "You got me grounded in my room for a whole day, you know!"

Putting down his coffee for a moment Elio pointed out "I never said you had to stay in your room...you just weren't allowed to come off compound with us. Darned shame too; we killed a lot of Padania terrorists yesterday, didn't we Nicco?" Corelli caught on and agreed with his older colleague.

Marisa knew they were teasing but she groaned "Aww man, I sat in my room all day for nothing! Can I at least get credit for next time?"

"Afraid it doesn't work that way, kiddo" chuckled Alboreto. He changed his demeanor just a bit to indicate that the time for joking around was over. "We'll be going into the city today to check out some art museums where the _Assassino D'Essai_ committed his murders, so right after morning classes go fetch your side-arm and a few magazines. I'll draw a box of rounds for you from the armory. Eh, do you know what Dario shoots?"

"She's got a Glock 19" answered the cyborg. Once again Nicolo found himself blown away by how casually these young children talked about firearms. "So the same 9x19 we both use works for her."

"Good, that makes things easy" Alboreto remarked. "If you're done then make sure this mess is cleaned up so you're not late for class."

"Yes sir!" the red-head chirped before dashing off to find a dustpan & broom.

Corelli was struck by how effortlessly this fratello interacted. "It's so easy for you" he muttered enviously, "she acts like she's your real daughter."

"That's how she views the relationship" replied the older man, "and I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. I confess; sometimes I even indulge myself in the illusion."

"Nothing wrong with that either" said Corelli. His breakfast was getting cold so the younger man asked "Do you mind if I eat while we talk? I always feel terribly rude eating in front of someone who isn't."

Alboreto motioned for him to _please begin_. "The Chief & I usually have something at his house before coming in. Since I've been here I think he's only eaten in the dining hall a handful of times."

"Oh, do you two live near each other?" asked Nicco between bites. He imagined an exclusive neighborhood, populated by senior spies. _Is there a neighborhood for terrorists & villains too?_

Elio gave a short laugh and admitted "I actually live in his spare bedroom. Pieri & I have known each other for a long time so when he recruited me I started crashing at his place with the intention of finding an apartment of my own soon enough. Here we are nearly three years later and we're still living together. Although I have no official rank beyond cyborg handler I sort of fill the role of _consigliere_ to him."

"Isn't that a mafia term?" coughed Nicco, choking on a bit of brioche.

"Well" said Elio with a little chuckle, "nobody ever said the things we do at the Agency are 100% _legal_."

That turn in the conversation made Nicolo a bit uneasy, so he steered away from it. "Mind if I back-track a bit? You said you & Marisa enjoy a father-daughter relationship. Do you have any advice on how I should view my association with Dario?"

Leaning back in his chair Elio answered "That's a very good question to which I can give no definitive answer. You have to figure out what works for you & your cyborg. The word fratello implies that you are siblings...it should be obvious why Mari & I don't fit that mold. You & Dario are only eleven years apart in age though so it's very believable. Hell Giuseppe Croce is old enough to be Henrietta's father but those two still pull off the brother-sister act. He does that for...personal reasons though. You should discuss that with him though."

The stumble in Alboreto's voice as he spoke that last bit triggered a revelation from Corelli; an association he felt foolish for not making earlier. "Wait a minute...Jean and Giuseppe Croce...they're not the sons of..."

Elio tossed up a hand to indicate that he would discuss it no further. "You should discuss it with _him_, but only if he brings it up. We need to respect their privacy in the matter." The pause was well timed, as Marisa had just arrived with her dustpan & broom. "I'll have excuse myself now" said the old spy, "last night I volunteered to help clean out Rafael Medino's office. You understand how difficult that would be for any of his friends at Section One I'm sure. See you both in front of the office building at noon."

Despite Marisa's insistence that she could do it herself Nicolo did his part cleaning up the mess of apple fragments, citing his own role in the malfeasance. As the young red-head left with her dustpan full of sweepings Nicco made a quick scan of the room for his own cyborg. He saw her stuffing her papers into the courier bag she carried over her shoulder before departing alone. The new handler had to hurry to catch up with her.

"Dario, hold up" he panted. After taking a few slow breaths Corelli handed her essay back. "This was very good. I'm...sorry about yesterday."

The cyborg looked at him with confusion. "Sir, I don't understand, it was me who disobeyed an order...I should be apologizing."

As they walked down the hall together, side by side Corelli said "The whole day was really off-kilter because I started it by letting you down. You needed me to use the indoor range and I overslept. You deserve a better handler than that and I intend to try a lot harder." She was silent, but attentive to his every word. Nicolo continued "Starting today I will not miss any more important appointments. We're a fratello and I intend to be a big brother you can depend on." To demonstrate his new commitment he reached out to open the door she was heading towards, holding it and following her inside.

"Well, thank you" the girl replied, blushing a little bit.

"So what do we have today?" Nicolo asked her, "Shooting range? Hand to hand combat? Disarming bombs?"

"Math class" answered Dario. Ashen faced, Nicolo looked around to realize he was standing at the top level of the lecture theatre, filled with cyborgs, all of whom were staring at him.

"It appears we have a visitor, class" announced Priscilla, "Mr. Corelli would you like to stay and observe the lesson? We'll be studying ratios as they relate to geometry." All eyes were on him, most of the girls looking at him as if they expected instructions. He could hear light giggling as well, although it was difficult to determine where it was coming from.

"Umm, I'm already pretty familiar with that subject" answered the thoroughly embarrassed Nicolo, slowly backing out of the room. Priscilla gave him a sympathetic smile and directed attention back to the front of the room by clapping her hands and announcing "Alright, let's begin by drawing some triangles..."

**_Legacy_**

Compared to the private galleries they had visited one day before the museums were filled with people. Not packed like on any summer weekend, but busy enough that both cyborgs were on their guard against anyone approaching their handler. Instead of splitting up to collect evidence all four stuck together.

"Here's where the third body was found" muttered Nicolo. Both cyborgs looked down, but the analyst looked up at the painting. "It's a really weird choice...Mario Cavaradossi's painting of Mary Magdalene."

"Why's that?" asked Marisa, who had been asking far more questions than her older counterpart.

Pleased to flex a bit of his knowledge of art history he explained "Well, it has a rather scandalous history for a religious work...Mario Cavaradossi was commissioned to create this painting for the the _Sant'Andrea della Valle _churchover in the _Sant'Eustachio _rione, but he was rumoured to have based the appearance of Mary Magdalene on his own lover. At the time he was involved with the premiere opera soprano of the day, but she was no blonde. The most likely candidate is the sister of a former Roman Republic consul named Angelotti, whom he might have been having an affair with."

"Well didn't Signor Cavaradossi ever tell?" asked Dario, "In old papers or a diary maybe?"

"He never got the chance. It was 1800, and Napoleon's troops were about to enter the city. The Chief of Police, a Baron named Scarpia was rounding up enemies who could potentially band against him once the French troops took over. He had both Cavaradossi & Angelotti killed, then he in turn was killed by the soprano, who then proceeded to kill herself."

"Holy cow, you could make that story into an opera!" muttered Marisa, "_Everybody_ dies at the end!"

"Except the blonde woman who the painting is based on" Dario pointed out.

"Yeah, nobody knows much about her" replied Nicolo with a shrug. "Each murder was committed directly in front of a painting...none were done in public areas or secluded spaces, it's very deliberate. My theory is that there's some significance to the paintings; some code we have to break."

"For a guy who commits murders in museums & art galleries this guy sure is dumb" opined Marisa. "Why would he _intentionally_ leave a code?"

Elio fielded this question; "This is very typical of serial killers. There could be some kind of split personality disorder at work here...he's dropping clues in the hopes that someone will catch him. However, based on what we saw at Mr. Corelli's apartment yesterday I'm more inclined to believe that our killer thinks he's smarter than us."

"Until I figure something out I'm inclined to agree with him" groaned Nicco, "so far all I'm doing is taking notes...I've found absolutely no discernible pattern to any of this."

Alboreto was about to say something in response but he was interrupted by the buzz of his silenced mobile phone. "I'll be out in the hall" he excused himself, observing the courtesy of not answering the call in a gallery. "Mari, stay with Mr. Corelli & Dario...I'll just be a minute."

As they continued to wander around the gallery Dario ventured a question; "Signor Corelli, do you have any idea why the assassin chooses to commit his murders inside art galleries? They're certainly not the easiest places to get into at night."

Shrugging his shoulders Nicco replied "I really don't know yet. Like Mr. Alboreto said he may be trying to leave a code for us to solve."

"Maybe he considers his murders his own form of art" Marisa offered.

"A shocking idea, but equally likely" growled Nicolo. The very idea made him angry and both cyborgs noticed.

"That offends you, doesn't it?" Dario asked.

Corelli sighed and sat down on an unoccupied bench. The girls took their places on either side of him, sitting intimately close as if they were his real-life younger sisters. They listened intently as he expounded on his feelings; "I'm no expert...in fact right about now I consider myself pretty unlucky to have ever written the report that got me into this mess. But I'm still here, this guy knows my name and I'm in it until he's caught. It doesn't feel very noble but the truth is I'm doing this at least in part to save my own skin." He took a deep breath and admitted "Part of me feels as if I'm doing this for art itself though. I suppose that sounds silly." Neither girls said anything, but both concentrated intently on his words so Nicco felt encouraged to continue; "What's happening here is profane...it's an insult to Italia's treasures and to art in general. By murdering people in galleries & museums the _Assassino D'Essai_ is mocking something I think is the most important legacy a society can produce."

"The _most_ important?" inquired Marisa with surprise.

"People are entitled to disagree with me but yes; I do think art is the most important legacy of any society. Buildings crumble, politics are forgotten, technology goes obsolete and our medicine becomes arcane with time. Art is the only thing that is timeless...civilizations of the future will define us by the art we produce. It's not just paintings & sculptures either. Our literature, our music, our architecture, religion, even how we chose to live with nature is all art. When a murderer goes out of his way to insult that he's insulting the entire legacy of the civilization we live in."

Nicolo could have gone on longer but he was interrupted by the return of Elio. "Sorry but we're going to have to cut our investigation short. My phone call was from the Rome Police, seems our help is required over at the _Banco Nazionale Del Lavoro _on_ Via Vittorio Veneto._"

**_Hostage Situation_ **

The Section Two team arrived to find a chaotic scene at the BNL Bank. At least a dozen Polizia & Carabinieri vehicles including a GIS team, multiple news crews and a crowd of onlookers numbering in the hundreds surrounded the building.

"_Buon pomeriggio_, Enzo" Alboreto greeted the detective, slipping under plastic police tape without showing his ID or consulting the lower ranking Polizia officers around him, "so what do we have here?"

Enzo shook his hand in greeting and explained "A touchy situation Elio, there's four gunmen holding a dozen hostages inside. Dumb as hell but heavily armed. I know it isn't your Section's job but we sure could use some cyborg support here." He turned and noticed Dario, Marisa & Nicolo standing with the civilian crowd behind the police tape. "Oh, good, looks like you have two of them."

"Not so fast Enzo" growled Alboreto, "it's broad daylight, there have to be four news vans and a huge crowd. Hell, the Egyptian Embassy is less than a block away. Section Two is a shadow organization, have you forgotten?" He beckoned for Nicco to come forward with the girls; once Enzo nodded in assent the officers let them through.

This was the Italian way and they all knew it...nothing would get done without a minor round of sparring over turf and responsibility. "Give me a break, Alboreto...I helped you out yesterday when this guy's apartment got broken into."

"You came an investigated!" Elio protested "You're the bloody police, that's your fucking job!"

"I kept the police investigators at bay so your Ferro and her team could get first crack at the evidence" Enzo retorted, "I had to explain that to my supervisors you know!"

"And if someone sees the girls in action _I_ have to explain that to Lorenzo & Croce" growled Alboreto.

Corelli watched this back and forth debate go on for another minute or two before both men tired of the exercise. "Umm...Detective...Mr. A...what about the hostages?"

"See, this guy's got his priorities straight!" trumpeted Enzo before lowering his tone. "Alboreto, he's right. There's a dozen people in there with four very desperate, very dumb and very well armed bank robbers. Please don't turn your back on this."

Growling with discontent Elio conceded. Regardless of how this turned out he would still have to explain to the Chief and the Field Commander why he had utilized two cyborgs on a job which had nothing to do with Section Two's mission so he may as well let them do it. "Damn it Enzo, just brief us."

"Thanks. At 1320 this afternoon we got a report that the BNL Bank had been taken over by six armed men. We surrounded the building and attempted to negotiate. They claimed to be with the Red Brigade but as soon as that went out over the Police radios the real Red Brigade issued a press release denying any knowledge of these fools. It appears they're just enthusiastic amateurs.

"They demanded a helicopter, which is completely stupid because you can't land a chopper anywhere within 400 meters of here...I mean look around, where the hell could you even get a chopper down in this neighborhood?" Enzo waved his hands around for emphasis. "Communications broke down as soon as GIS decided to start shooting. Their snipers nailed two of the bastards but didn't even have a shot at the other four. Negotiations terminated right there."

Elio shook his head in frustration "Who the hell is their detachment commander?"

"_Tenente_ Vito Franchesi" muttered Enzo.

"That explains everything" Alboreto sighed, "where the hell is Major Sales when you need him?"

Enzo nodded "I know. Sales is aware of your cyborg program, am I right?"

"Yes, and that twit Franchesi is not. We not only have to worry about four news crews and a crowd of civilians seeing the girls in action...now we have to hide them from the GIS as well!"

Nicco felt pretty helpless while listening to the two. He was supposed to be a Section Two Agent just like Mr. Alboreto but here he was completely out of his depth. Eager to make some sort of contribution he ventured "Is there some way to get them inside without being seen?"

"We can't wait until dark" sighed Enzo, "the bank robbers are already getting desperate. I'd wager they're about an hour away from killing hostages."

"What about under the bank?" asked Corelli, "Do any nearby buildings have basements that interconnect?"

Again Enzo shook his head "It's a bank, if you could break in that easily it would have been robbed blind years ago. Begging your pardon...who the hell are you anyway?"

The senior handler introduced him "Sorry, this is Nicolo Corelli, he's a provisional handler for Sec Two. He specializes in art. Nicco, this is Detective Enzo Castellotti, I'll explain about him later." Nicco extended his hand but Enzo did not seem to notice.

"Art eh?" muttered the Detective, "I don't think that's gonna help us much right now. What we really need is a way to get the cyborgs onto the roof and down the air conditioning ducts without being noticed. If they can sneak into those it's an easy climb down to the bank lobby."

"There's no subtle way to do this" Elio mused, "we need a distraction, something that will draw everyone's attention away for just a few moments."

Nicco was nervous about jumping into the conversation again but he genuinely felt like he had a good idea so he took the risk; "They want a helicopter, right? Maybe we can get one of those news choppers to make a really low pass. It'll distract the crowd and calm the hostage takers down because they'll think we're giving them what they want."

"That's good" replied Elio, "but what about the GIS snipers?"

Marisa piped up with an answer "Detective Castellotti, you can give the order to train all weapons on the chopper. Make them think the bank robbers are coming out and boarding it!"

"I think that's as good a plan as we're going to get" agreed Enzo, patting Marisa on the head (unlike Henrietta, she accepted the praise without objection).

Alboreto asked "What's the closest place where they can cross over?"

Detective Enzo was quick with an answer, directing their attention to a map rolled out on the hood of his Alfa Romeo. "Behind the hotel; the roof of the Hotel Boscolo Aleph...real ritzy place. From there it's a less than a five meter jump over the Via Versilla and you're on the roof of the BNL bank. Cross over at the South-East corner of the hotel, that will put you on the South-West corner of the bank where the AC units are located."

"Alright, get one of those news helicopters lined up to buzz the East face of the building," said Elio. "Girls, are you up for this?" Both cyborgs nodded and wore enthusiastic grins.

Enzo had to stay in command of the police operation but in minutes Elio, Nicco and the girls had gone around the next block to the front door of the Boscolo Aleph Hotel. This Nicolo questioned; "We really just walk right in the front door? I thought we had to do this all cloak-and-dagger style?"

"We need to get up on the roof fast...no time for that" answered Alboreto, never breaking stride as he walked up tho the front desk.

Corelli grabbed his arm and objected "But what about all the effort we've gone through to ensure the girls remain hidden? Now the hotel concierge is going to see them!"

Rather than be annoyed at explaining everything to his younger counterpart Alboreto had an amused grin on his face. "See whom?" he asked. Nicolo whipped around and noticed for the first time that the cyborgs were no longer with them. He stood there, scanning the lobby with his jaw moving...no words coming out. "Trust them Nicco" whispered the gray bearded Agent, "we practice for contingencies just like this...they know what to do."

"_Signores_, may I help you?" asked the head clerk at the desk.

Elio flashed his government ID (_at Nicco's last count Alboreto was carrying six identification cards_) without hesitation. "We need access to your roof. This is related to the situation at the bank next door."

"Certainly, signor" answered the clerk, but before he could leave his post the concierge stepped right in and said "I'll take care of this myself, Gino."

With the utmost professional efficiency he led the two men to an "employees only" elevator. It had no buttons, the concierge operated the lift manually by a control lever, giving them an express ride straight to the top floor. "From here it is just one flight of stairs to the top" explained the man, opening up another door marked _solo i dipendenti._

"It would be better if we went alone" Alboreto told him, "as there are hostages involved I am sure you can appreciate the delicacy of the situation."

"Of course, signor" answered the concierge, "if you require anything else from our staff we are all at your service." He issued a short bow as he backed away.

Elio tipped his head in return salute "Thank you."

"If possible" added Nicolo, "would you please make sure your staff stays off the roof until the hostage situation is resolved."

"Of course, signor."

Corelli shot a glance to his senior agent, who gave him an approving nod which flooded Nicco with a giddy pride at having gotten something right. He kept his emotions in check though as he followed Alboreto up the narrow service staircase.

Waiting on the roof were the two cyborgs. "I probably shouldn't even ask how you beat us up here" commented Nicolo.

"We took the main stairs the instant we all came in the door" answered Dario, "while you distracted the desk clerk and his boss we got up to the top floor, cut through one of the penthouse suites, out the private balcony and onto the roof."

Amazed once again by the girls' prowess Nicolo shook his head and muttered "My god...can you turn _invisible_ on top of everything else?"

"That's silly" giggled Marisa, "but Series Two cyborgs are _super_ good at sneaking around unseen!"

Alboreto was already on his cell phone. "We're in position, Enzo; how are you doing on that helicopter distraction?"

"Three minutes, get your troops ready."

"They're almost ready, go over and check out the jump girls" instructed the handler. Nicco walked over to the edge with them and looked down, feeling a touch dizzy as he regarded the six storey drop.

For their part the cyborgs were not looking down, they were looking across the five meter gap at a set of noisy air conditioner units. "I sure hope nobody looks up while we're jumping" muttered the red head, "I'm wearing a skirt."

"You should wear pants for a mission like this" advised Dario.

"Well I didn't know we were going to be jumping between roof tops today!" Marisa retorted, "I thought we were just going to help your new handler look at paintings."

Feeling the need to exert a little adult authority Nicco stepped in and told them "I think it's time to get serious, girls." Completely relaxed considering what they were about to do both cyborgs gave him a nod and replied "Yes, sir" in perfect unison.

From a few paces away and still on the phone with Enzo, Elio announced "Sixty seconds!" Already they could hear the approach of the news helicopter, making a low pass over the neighboring rooftops. As Nicco counted down the seconds it came tearing through just a few meters above their heads, blowing up dust and roofing gravel as it passed. After crossing over the bank building it made a hard left turn and dipped down below Corelli's line of sight. He heard Elio yell something he could not make out but the cyborgs heard him well enough. With a running start they each made the impossible looking leap (Marisa's concerns proved to be well founded, as Nicco found himself aware of the color of her undergarments) and dashed to the cover of the AC units. "They're clear" Alboreto informed Detective Enzo, and just a half minute later the helicopter lifted straight up and back into the open skies above Rome.

Elio gave the girls a signal and in just seconds they had an access panel ripped off and both of them disappeared into the duct-work. "What do we do now?" asked Corelli.

"We get back down to the front of the bank" answered Alboreto, "you're going to be amazed at how fast they get this done.

As the two handlers rejoined the police contingent outside the front door of the BNL building Nicolo ventured a question; "You said you'd explain about this Detective Castellotti..."

"He's Public Safety's man in the Polizia" explained Elio, and it came as no surprise to Nicco that his former Agency spied on the police. He's processed enough intel reports to know that in Italy everyone spied on everyone else. Alboreto continued; "Of course the police don't know it but he's an undercover intelligence Agent. Good man...he helped Section Two out a few years back when Hillshire and the Croce brothers stopped a bombing plot in the Piazza di Spagna."

"Oh jeeze, I take my lunch hours there!" Nicco exclaimed, immediately embarrassed about his failure to keep his voice down.

Alboreto did not seem to mind his lack of volume control. "Well, Enzo may have kept you from getting your ass blown off. Buy him a drink later." The younger man questioned him no more, as Elio had his attention wholly focused on the building.

The shoot-out was nothing like in the movies. All the indication Nicco had that something had happened at all was a frantic increase in the chatter across law enforcement radio channels. Seconds later a contingent of GIS commandos stormed the front door...an act that drew a chuckle from both Elio Alboreto and Enzo Castellotti. They both knew there would be nothing left for the GIS to mop up once they got inside. For the crowd these were the most tense & exciting moments but they had little idea that the worst was already over.

Minutes later the commandos filed out the door, their helmet visors open, weapons safed and slung at their sides. When the rescued hostages finally exited a great cheer erupted from the crowd, leaving the GIS men with embarrassed looks on their faces which the assembled citizens mistook for humility.

If the civilian crowd had been more observant some among them might have noticed that the count of hostages was slightly higher than the dozen they had been expecting. Near the back of the group two young girls tagged along but as soon as they were afforded the opportunity they side-stepped the Carabinieri officers ushering them on to an ambulance to be checked over and joined Nicco and Elio.

"Mission successful" chirped Marisa, "but Dario caught a bullet."

"I didn't catch it," protested the brunette, "it went straight through." Dario was wearing Marisa's jacket, tied around her waist to conceal the wound...Mari was holding Dario's own coat, folded in a way to hide the blood.

Elio scowled and asked "How bad is it?"

"No big deal," the girl replied, pulling back the jacket a bit to show him, "it hit just above my hip but deflected off my armour layer and passed out the back. We got all four of them though. The hostages were blindfolded so they never saw us...we just joined in with them when we heard the GIS guys storm in and they never noticed the difference."

"Well done, both of you" Alboreto complimented them.

Nicco was astounded by their performance but regained his wits in time to join his senior counterpart in the praise. "That was really amazing, I've never seen anything like it!" He witnessed the trouble Dario was having keeping Mari's jacket tied around her waist and doffed his own coat, draping it over her shoulders. It hung low enough to cover her gunshot wound so with a smile she thanked him and gave Marisa her jacket back.

After retrieving Elio's BMW from where they'd parked it the group headed immediately back to headquarters so Dario's injury could be seen to. Nicolo gave Marisa the front seat for this ride so that he could remain in back and keep an eye on his cyborg in case she began to show signs of distress. The ride passed without incident however, and as night fell they found themselves pulling through the front gate of the SWA compound.

"Take it easy, Dario...maybe you should have a wheel-chair" suggested Corelli, helping her up out of the automobile.

She gave an embarrassed giggle and assured him "Sir, it's not that bad, I can walk just fine!" Still he made her hold his arm as they walked up the steps into the lobby; Dario felt awkward about him making such a big deal over a minor injury but after so long without a handler it felt nice to have someone dote over her so the girl did not object too strongly.

"Evening Camilla" Elio greeted the on duty nurse, whom Nicco recognized as Nurse Avalli who had done his exam on the first day, "we've got a girl with a hole in her."

"Two holes!" Dario corrected him, "The bullet passed straight through." The nurse wasted no time & came out from behind the desk to have a look at her.

"It doesn't look too bad" Camilla opined "how does it feel, sweetie?"

Dario just shrugged "No pain really. A little numb."

"That's the conditioning working" Avalli assured her. With a smile she informed the wounded cyborg "You're in luck, Dr. Bergonzi is on duty tonight. He'll get you fixed right up."

"Good" answered Dario, wearing a wide grin. A bob of Marisa's eyebrows let Nicolo know that this _Doctor Bergonzi_ was a favorite of all the females on compound.

Nurse Avalli now turned her attention to the worried handler. "We'll fix her up just fine, you have nothing to be concerned about. She'll have to stay here in the hospital overnight though."

Remembering what a traumatic place the hospital was when he was a youngster (there had been an _incident_ involving his older sister, a dart board and Nicco's right ear) Corelli showed his young charge as much support as he could. "Dario, would you like me to stay with you?"

"Oh that won't be necessary" chuckled the nurse, but Nicco ignored her and left the decision up to his cyborg.

"I can stay if you want, Dario."

Crimson faced, the girl hissed "Mr. Corelli! I'm going to be _naked_!"

"Oh..." muttered Corelli, embarrassed enough for both of them, "...yes, of course you will. I'll just...catch up with you tomorrow."

Leaving Dario in the capable hands of the SWA Medical staff, Elio, Nicco & Marisa got back into the M3 & headed back to Section Two's portion of the compound. "It's late...but we can catch something to eat at the handler's canteen."

"Can I come too?" asked Marisa hopefully. It was a rare treat to be admitted to the adult staff's private dining room, which cyborgs were restricted from visiting without their handler.

"Well, you'll have to," replied her Master, "the dining hall's closed and despite what you girls in the dorm think I don't consider tea and cake in Triela's room a proper dinner."

With a comic snort of mock haughtiness Mari retorted "Shows what you know; it's Kara & Gattonero hosting tea tonight!"

**END OF CHAPTER 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Nicco had seen the handlers' canteen during his explorations of the compound (at least Section Two's part of the compound) but this was the first time he was using it. The place looked like little more than a break room with a large glass fronted refrigerator holding plastic-wrapped sandwiches, salads, various bottled beverages as well as an assortment of fruit and plastic yoghurt cups. The coffee machine looked very well used. Although no one was indulging at the moment Corelli could tell by the smell of the air that unlike the main dining hall smoking was permitted in this room.

There were only two people in the canteen, obviously a fratello that Nicolo had not yet met but was going to meet forthwith, as Elio sat down at the table with them as soon as he had made his selections from the cooler. Nicco followed suit, selecting a sandwich, a bottle of water and a bowl of cut fruit. Marisa was the last to join them, sitting down with a heavily laden tray. The junior handler would have been surprised had he not eaten lunch with her earlier today and become aware of her prodigious capacity.

"Heya Rachel, how's it going?" asked the red-head of her cyborg sister.

"Pretty good," replied an amply endowed girl about Dario's age with distinct Puerto Rican features "you smell like powder, did ya see some action today?"

"Yup, Dario & I dropped down through the AC ducts at some bank and took out four robbers who'd taken some civies hostage. Dario got hit though; she's okay but she's gotta spend the night in hospital."

"Too bad" replied the raven haired girl "the hospital food sucks." She took a bite of her sandwich and boasted "Some perv flashed me on the train today so I kicked him in the junk hard enough to cause internal bleeding." Tearing off another bite she added proudly "There's a good chance he'll die."

"Cool" answered Mari with a nod of approval.

Interrupting the cyborg conversation, Elio introduced them; "Nicolo, I don't believe you've met Fernando & Rachel yet...they just got back from Pescara this evening. Nicco Corelli here has been assigned Dario and will be working on the _Assassino D'Essai _case until it's resolved."

In between bites a curly haired man in his late twenties or early thirties replied "Yeah, I heard something about that...you're the ex-Public Safety Analyst, am I right?" He did not wait for an answer before shaking Nicco's hand across the table and continuing "I'm Fernando G., I specialize in nuclear interdiction."

With a sly grin Elio commented "Actually, he specializes in pissing Jean off and making life difficult for the rest of us."

"Jean's an A-hole" muttered his cyborg. Fernando put his hand on her arm in a gentle admonishment to keep her peace.

"You're making me sound like a pain in the ass, Alboreto" he replied. "I do everything Jean and the Chief ask me to. I just make a point of never doing it the first time they ask. To be honest I'm just on loan from the American CIA...or in _exile_ as some prefer to put it."

"And we're the lucky ones the that get the nut-job the CIA can't control" chuckled Alboreto, spearing a tomato from his salad.

Rachel seemed to take umbrage at her handler being called a nut-job but Fernando only laughed and shrugged his shoulders "Whatever you say; I'm only doing this job until I'm crowned King of Spain."

Elio tossed out another jab; "Did I mention we trust this guy to handle nukes?"

Sitting up straight in his chair Fernando put on an offended air and retorted "It's absolutely true! I'm currently 52nd in line for the Spanish throne."

"Wasn't it 56th just last month Mr. Fernando?" asked Marisa, chewing on a bite of her sandwich.

The handler pulled a dog-eared notebook from his pocket and opened it to a page covered with cross-outs and hand written notes. "People die, babies are born...I keep very careful track of these things and mark my words I'm getting closer to the top with every passing year!"

There was a heavy degree of humour implied in the conversation but Nicolo Corelli surprised everyone by calmly stating "Yes, I can certainly see it in your features...the Gutierrez line which merged with the current House of Borbón in the early 16th century." Even Fernando was dumbstruck by this...everyone at the SWA seemed to think his claim to the Spanish crown was pure insanity and even he took it only half-seriously. Before he could form a rational answer in his head Fernando detected something dangerous which started as a dry, scratchy feeling in the back of his throat.

Rachel picked up on it immediately; "Daddy, are you alright?"

"I...I'm fine...it's just..." he reached out for his water bottle but knocked it over as he coughed. Out of concern Elio thrust a new one into his hand but it did not help much. "...does anything here have strawberries in it?" Fernando coughed. "Very...allergic..._*cough*_...even the smell..."

Everyone at the table urgently looked over their food but the offending fruit could not be found. As Corelli rooted through his own bowl of pineapple & melon pieces he looked up to see Rachel locking him in a ferocious glare. She stood up, slamming her powerful hands down on the table and roared "It's YOU!"

For the rest of his life Nicco never felt as close to death as he did at that moment. He was the target of a full-on cyborg rage. Any second now Rachel was sure to come across the table and tear him limb from limb and there was absolutely nothing that could be done to prevent it.

Her eyes burning with hatred the girl hissed "My God-Daddy is allergic to strawberries and _you're_ trying to kill him! Where are they?"

"I-I-I swear..." stammered Nicolo, spilling out his bowl of fruit in an effort to demonstrate that he was innocent. "See? No st-strawb-b-berries!"

Elio was the first with an explanation "Hold on...did you use the Agency issued shampoo this morning?"

"Oh god...I did" answered the younger man, sure that he had spelled his own doom.

Fernando, still having difficulty breathing, put his hand up and replied "I'll be okay. That shampoo has no real strawberry extracts...I'm just having a psychosomatic reaction to the scent."

Rachel was not ready to back down. "I could throw him out the window if it would help you, Daddy" she growled, never breaking her vicious, terrifying stare.

"Take a conditioning pill Rachel" Marisa muttered "it's no big deal. Your handler already said he was a psycho."

"You're a psycho!"

"Who's freaking out over imaginary strawberries?" retorted Mari "Lookout! We're being attacked by invisible grapefruits!"

"I'll show you an attack..."

Fighting through his discomfort Fernando slammed his hand down on the table and yelled "Enough both of you! You're not helping! Rachel sit your butt back down now or you're going to need a pillow to sit on for the rest of the night!"

"Same goes for you, Mari" added Elio in a considerably calmer voice.

The tension was broken for the moment, and Nicolo breathed a sigh of relief with the revelation that he would not be torn to bits by a thirteen year old Puerto Rican girl...at least not tonight. Marisa was apparently not ready to quit just yet; she leaned over the table and teased "Hey Rachel...betcha my handler spanks harder than yours."

"In you dreams, dork-face!" Rachel snapped "Your handler is like...two-hundred years old!"

Between his allergic false alarm and now a verbal sparring match between cyborgs Fernando had reached the limit of his patience. He let out a low growl that let both girls know their next word was likely to be their last. "Umm, I think I need to use the bathroom" Rachel said, nervously turning her eyes toward her_ God Daddy_.

"Yeah me too" Marisa got up to join her.

The two girls left together, perhaps observing the long standing female tradition of retiring to the powder room together, perhaps both eager to get out of arms reach of their increasingly agitated handlers or maybe they still had unfinished business with each other. "Wow," muttered Corelli, "do they really dislike each other that much?"

"On the contrary," groaned Elio, "those two get along _so well_ that they know they won't cause any major offense when they go back and forth like that."

"It can get _extremely_ annoying" added Fernando. Nicolo wondered if either man realized that the cyborgs were just following the example of their handlers, who had started the entire conversation with good humored teasing. He did not have the nerve to point that fact out, so he remained silent.

Alboreto resumed the conversation with a new topic; "I won't be able to go with you into Rome tomorrow. Marisa and I have a mission down in the Gulf of Taranto."

"Diving?" asked Fernando.

Elio nodded. "The ATPI division of the _Guardia di Finanza_ ran down a Padania speed-boat yesterday but before capture they tossed something overboard in sixty meters of water. That's beyond the reach of regular ATPI divers so Mari & I are going down with rebreathers to look for whatever the Padans didn't want us to see."

"Okay" replied Nicco. He knew Mr. Alboreto was only going to be with him these two days but it was still scary thinking that he'd be on his own tomorrow. First and foremost in his mind was "Eh, do you know where I can get a ride downtown? I still have one murder site to check out."

"Just sign a vehicle out from the motor pool" Fernando instructed.

Sheepishly, Nicolo admitted "I don't have a license."

"No big deal, Olga is authorized to issue you one" the Spanish heir replied.

"You don't understand...I don't know how to drive either" said Nicco, "I mean, I could do it on the highway or a rural road but in Rome traffic..."

Fernando rolled his eyes and muttered "Okay...Rachel & I are going down to the docks in Ostia tomorrow. We can drop you off in Rome but you're on your own getting a lift back."

**_Test Subject_**

Eager to greet his cyborg as soon as she was ready to go Nicolo walked out to the hospital early that next morning. As it turned out he had to wait...Dario had not even been discharged yet; she still had a physical exam before she would be released. Despite the absence of his cyborg there was something waiting at the nurses' desk for Nicco, a copy of Dr. Belisario's latest publishable (i.e. _non-classified_) scientific paper, autographed by the author with a greeting to "_Doctor Timo Lombardi_, _migliori auguri ad un collega._" Corelli had forgotten he'd asked Belisario for an autograph to send to his college room-mate, but the Doctor had remembered and come through beyond Nicco's expectations.

With time to burn Nicolo sat on the hospital steps and tried to read the paper but to a layman like himself the complex medical jargon was impenetrable. He wished he'd thought to bring a book along. Left with little else to do Nicco stared up at the morning sky and watched the clouds drift past.

Conversation found him instead; "Good morning Mr. Corelli. I hope this isn't the new place they found for you to sleep."

Looking up, Nicco was clad to see a friendly face. "Morning Claes, now come on, what did I say the other night? There's nobody around."

"Fine," she sighed, adding a little laugh on the end "Good morning _Nicco._"

"That's better. What brings you out here so early? Not feeling sick I hope."

In a slightly sarcastic tone Claes explained "Nothing like that. I have the singular distinction of being the Agency's test subject. Today there's new puncture-resistant hands to test so they'll be cutting these off, attaching new ones that don't really fit, piercing those with knives repeatedly before finally giving me my original hands back."

"That's gruesome!" exclaimed Corelli, looking visibly pale.

She shrugged her shoulders and replied "No worse than any of the combat-qualified girls come home with on a regular basis. I heard Dario got shot yesterday."

"Word travels fast" muttered Nicco, feeling a little responsible for her injury even though he'd had nothing to do with the circumstances that led to it. "You're going to be okay after all the...you know...knife stuff, right? You won't feel any pain?"

Claes checked her watch and, finding that she had a few minutes to spare, sat down on the steps next to Nicolo. "Feeling pain is part of the experiment. I'm conscious so I can report to the doctors what I'm feeling. For cyborgs, pain is different and passes quickly. As long as we stay mentally positive the conditioning drugs suppress the worst of it. When we're depressed or upset it's worse."

This did not sit well with Nicco. "Why should there be any difference? When you're down or upset that's when you need the pain suppression the most!"

"It's just one of those things about conditioning...it's always been that way" she explained. "You have to look at this the way the Agency does; when a cyborg only feels pain after she's failed at her mission it becomes an incentive to success."

Resentfully, Nicco replied "That's downright cruel. You girls can't control whether a mission is a success or a failure...especially if you've already been injured."

Rather than address his point directly, Claes continued; "It also gives the handlers the option of smacking their cyborg when she's not listening or obeying." She chuckled to downplay the prospect, adding "That wouldn't do much good if it didn't hurt!"

"So the cyborg engineers did it intentionally?"

Claes shook her head. "I don't think so. I spend more time around the doctors & engineers than any cyborg and those guys are _total_ perfectionists. I think it was just an unexpected reaction between the pain suppressant elements of the conditioning and natural endorphins. That said; they've had years to fix it and they haven't...I guess the Agency considers it a convenient accident."

Corelli shook his head in disgust; it did not seem right to him. If the government had a way to prevent adult soldiers from feeling pain in battle, regardless of that battle's outcome, there would be no question about using it. "I still think what they're doing to you is unfair."

"Then it's best not to think about it too much" answered Claes. "I like to look on the bright side. There's no internal scans involved in today's test so I could have anything I liked for breakfast...none of that bland white yoghurt I have to eat on some test days!"

"Mr. Corelli I'm ready to go" announced a voice behind them. Dario stood at the top of the steps, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

"Oh, good morning..." Nicolo said, hopping up and dusting off the back of his slacks. He offered Claes a hand getting to her feet. "How was your night, Dario? Any problems?"

"I'm 100% ready" she replied without much emotion. Dario glared at Claes, making the girl in glasses feel a bit uncomfortable so she excused herself. "Well, Dr. Gilliani is probably ready for me so I'd better get inside."

"Okay, nice talking to you again Claes, good luck today." As Claes left them Nicco turned to his own cyborg and tried to engage her in conversation. "Looks like we're on our own today. Fernando will be giving us a lift into Rome and Olga will come pick us up when we're done. We have some time before we need to meet him...would you like to go to the dining hall and grab some breakfast?"

"I already ate here at the hospital" Dario told him.

"Oh yeah...what did you have?"

"Bland white yoghurt."

**_Lola_**

There much as well have been ominous organ music playing in the background as Nicco approached the blue Porsche 928 sitting in the Section Two parking lot. With its dark tinted windows it was impossible to tell if anyone was inside but Rachel stood guard over her Master's automobile, and after her ferocious display over the strawberry incident last night Nicco did not dare get any closer than a few meters. At last Fernando showed up, wearing dark sunglasses, his approach heralded by Rachel carefully removing her foot from the tire. "Goddamn Ferro cornered me before I could escape" he growled in explanation, "she had a bug up her ass about reports that aren't due for three more days...like I've got nothing better to do! Well, let's get going." He unlocked the car and flipped the seat forward. "I'm sorry, it's a bit cramped back there but I need my Rachel to be in the front seat with me. It's a vision thing...a bright flash can temporarily blind me and if that happens Rachel is trained to grab the wheel and get us over to the side of the road safely." Rachel grinned broadly when he mentioned her usefulness, but said nothing.

Dario slipped into the back-seat first, followed by her handler, who did find it a touch cramped. As it turned out he was not to be thusly compressed for very long, as Fernando drove fast. Nicco began to wonder if that was a requirement at the Agency, as Giuseppe Croce had so far been the only one he felt completely safe riding with. Unlike Elio Alboreto the day before however, Fernando did not slow down when they entered the city limits, proudly proclaiming "I'm a New Yorker, this Roman traffic is the the only thing that makes me feel at home!" Just as he finished the sentence he cut in front of a Iveco truck, causing its driver to blast his horn and launch a stream of expletives at the 928's driver, which Fernando returned with gusto. "You just have to show them who's dominant!" It was astonishing to Corelli that the blue Porsche did not have a single scratch or dent on it.

"Daddy used to drive a hearse," Rachel proudly informed their passengers, "just in case he hit any pedestrians who got in his way!"

Fernando asked for directions to the museum but Nicolo said he wasn't sure, he only knew which bus connections to take. This was a lie; Nicco was just eager to end the harrowing ride as soon as possible. "Just drop us off at the _Stazione Termini_ at _Piazzale dei Cinquecento_ and we can catch a bus from there."

"Sure thing, but it's no problem to take you all the way to the gallery" offered Fernando as he nearly side-swiped a Fiat.

"The train station is fine."

As they coasted to a stop in the parking lot Rachel's sharp eyes spotted a familiar pair. "Daddy, look, it's Petrushka and..." but before she could finish her sentence Fernando's hand shot out at lightning speed, impelling her to stop. Handler & cyborg exchanged a sly glance and she said no more.

Rather than just drop his passengers off Fernando parked his 928. The two fratelli were unsure whether to approach Petra and her companion, they might be on a sensitive mission after all, but a wave from the cyborg let them know it was okay. Nicolo had not yet met Petrushka or her handler, but the pale skinned, jet-black haired teenager shook hands with him as introductions were made and gave him a friendly smile. "And you are?" he inquired of her female companion.

"Lola" replied the statuesque blond woman. Her height was striking, more than half a head taller than Nicco himself, but she carried herself in an elegant, ladylike fashion. She gave him her hand and Corelli was almost tempted to kiss it...but that would be unprofessional he decided.

"Well I'm charmed to meet you. What are you and Petrushka working on?" he asked.

Petra answered "We're tailing that Padania operative...see the scruffy guy in the blue sweatshirt? He dropped off some pipe bombs at a house Melanie & Mr. Mehrandish have under surveillance so we're following him to see where he goes next."

"Hopefully he'll lead us to a big score" added Lola before she turned to watch her target on the move. "We'll have to be going, it looks like our mark is boarding his train."

"Best of luck to you" wished Corelli. "Maybe we'll see each other around the compound after work." He immediately knew he'd come on too strong, Fernando & Rachel were both stifling laughter and his own Dario was red faced with embarrassment.

"Looking forward to it" replied Lola, flashing him a kind smile.

"We've got to get on the road too" said Fernando, nearly in tears with suppressed laughter. He shook hands with Nicco and wished him good luck, a sentiment Corelli returned even as he felt he was being made fun of by the somewhat crazy CIA man. Fernando fired up his Porsche, smoked the tires leaving the parking lot and exited back into traffic with a big power-slide through the "Entrance Only" lane.

Finally alone with Dario at the train terminal Nicco breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm kinda glad we're not riding back with him. How about that Lola, she's really something, isn't she?"

"Are you serious?" muttered Dario, crimson faced with her mouth wide open in astonishment.

Nicolo defended himself; "Well I was impressed. I didn't know there were any female cyborg handlers in Section Two."

"There aren't!" exclaimed the girl, "That was Mr. Rissi! Petrushka's handler! He's an ex-spy...a _total_ master of disguise!"

Now it was Nicco's turn to be embarrassed. "My god...I've actually met him before."

"Yes, he was there when they first presented me to you!" groaned Dario. Despite his humiliation Nicolo noticed that at least in one respect Dario was finally acting like a normal teenager...she thought her adult guardian was an idiot.

Shuffling this indignity away into the file cabinet containing countless other injuries to his pride Nicolo finally muttered "Come on...it's this way to the bus station." As he and Dario walked side by side in silence he thought "_At least I didn't kiss her hand._"

**_A Door Man with Connections_**

By the time they'd ridden a few bus connections Dario had forgotten most of her embarrassment at having the worst handler in the Agency (although she was sure Rachel would spread the story all over the dorm) and was enjoying the sights of Rome. Like most of the cyborgs, public transportation was a novelty...they were usually transported in their handler's private automobiles.

Despite the stimulating conditions Dario suffered from no lack of attentiveness to her handler's security, in fact new strangers constantly getting on and off the bus allowed her to practice her profiling talents. The men & women she knew at the SWA Special Operations compound fit into very few easily definable categories; staff, doctors, handlers, Section One and visitors (_plus cyborgs, she almost forgot to include_). Aboard this city bus Dario had already counted a dozen entirely distinct trades and many more individuals whose vocation she could only guess at. The game not only allowed her to sharpen her perceptive skills but also forced her to consider each person one by one to determine if he or she posed a threat to Mr. Corelli. Even though he was not a _real handler_ Dario felt good to be protecting her supervisor...something she had not done since she lost Arturo.

To Dario's surprise it was not her attentive observations that clued her in to a possible threat but the conduct of her own handler. At a stop near the _Piazza di Spagna_ a huge bald man lumbered onto the bus. The girl looked him over and rated him a low threat...he was very large but took a seat far away. Next to her Mr. Corelli bristled when he saw the man; Dario could feel his muscles trembling with anger and hear his heart rate increase. "Sir," she whispered, "that bald man...is he someone important?"

"Don't pay him any attention Dario, he means nothing" muttered Nicolo, but it was impossible to miss the spite in his voice.

"I don't understand," she persisted, "the way you're reacting..."

He cut her off sharply "I said just ignore him."

That would be impossible though; their conversation attracted the attention of the bullish looking man and he recognized Nicolo. "Oi! You're the fucking _hero_ from the other day. You still want me to get up outta my seat for some old bitch?"

"Leave us alone, nobody was talking to you" muttered Nicco, stretching the limits of his bravery.

This time the big man got up of his own volition and walked over to where the fratello sat. The other passengers shrank in their seats, unwilling or afraid to get involved. "Maybe I like where you're sittin' better, hero. Get yer ass up."

Dario looked him over; _1.88 meters, approximately 130 kilograms, below average muscle tone, soft hands indicate a lack of physical labour, heart rate above average indicating poor cardiovascular fitness_. Even if he carried a weapon he was no threat, but he had spoken rudely to Mr. Corelli and that could not be tolerated. "My brother will do no such thing" she responded coldly, "this is a public bus and we were here first."

The man ignored her and growled at Nicco directly "Brother? Well you little sister has got a big mouth on her. She's gonna end up getting you into trouble."

"Dario, don't do anything stupid" ordered Nicolo, but that command left a lot of room for interpretation.

"You are beneath my brother's consideration" growled the cyborg, shifting forward in her seat, "and if you start trouble I will finish it."

Eyes wide with building anger the bald man spat "You goddamn little shit! You got a lot to learn about the real world. First, this ain't no school yard, I've got nothing against hittin' a little girl. And before you even dream of callin' the polizia you better know who you're fucking with. I'm the door man at _Nova_. That's where Senator Gressari goes to party, where the Chief of police's daughter hangs out, and where the Mayor met his third wife. I've got _connections_, the kind that can make things hard for you and your pissant brother, _capito_?"

Dario wasted not time snapping back "Seems to me all your second rate connections would be pretty angry about a blowhard like you dropping their names." The man was a genuine threat now but she knew it was impossible to pull her Glock or use her prodigious strength in such a public setting. The girl picked her words strategically to goad him into a fight that could be handled on _her_ terms. "My brother & I are getting off soon so if you're going to do something to embarrass yourself you'd better do it soon."

Her strike was timed with the next stop. The braggart door man hauled his immense hand back to strike her just as the driver applied the brakes. Thrown off balance the overweight man stumbled toward the front of the bus. Calmly, Dario took advantage to spring out of her seat and deliver a light shove that sent him crashing onto his ass. Bellowing furiously the human bull rolled over to his hands and knees but could not get up before Dario grabbed his ear and twisted one wrist behind his back painfully. She had leverage and control over his mass, so when she doors opened it took little effort to toss him straight out. The man's jacket rode up in his bent over position, revealing to Dario a cheap revolver, so as a final insult she gave the weapon a quick tap, dislodging it from the back of his waist band so that it tumbled down his trouser leg and onto the bus floor just as he was hurled out to contact a light pole face first. With lightning speed that would have done a magician proud Dario kicked the pistol with her heel so that it slid under Nicco's seat before anyone noticed it.

"Just like you taught me!" she chirped, turning to face her '_brother_.' As the bus got back underway Dario received the applause of the remaining passengers, but only got an annoyed look from her handler.

"Didn't I tell you not to get involved?" he whispered angrily once she had taken her seat.

Confused and a little hurt by his lack of approval she replied "But sir, he was nothing...I didn't have to use any more force than a normal girl would possess."

"If he was nothing why did you get involved against my orders?"

"He...he w-was a threat to you..." stammered the confused girl.

Nicolo wasn't sure if he was angry, embarrassed or frightened so he just broke off eye contact and muttered "He wasn't a threat until you goaded him into a fight."

"Yes sir" was the only appropriate answer Dario could think of.

"Collect that weapon and don't let anyone see you doing it" ordered Corelli, "we can't leave it there for some random kid to find."

Still blocks away from the museum they were to investigate the fratello got off at the next stop. They each walked just a few paces...both knew they had to have it out with each other before they went a step further.

"Signor Corelli sir, I'm sorry but I don't know what you want, I don't know how to make you happy with me. I'm trained to do the kind of things I just did, but if you want me to do something different..."

Nicolo felt foolish for not knowing what to tell her. "I just wish I'd known what to expect" he admitted. "For all I knew you were going to fly off the handle, shoot that man and then kill every witness on the bus. Isn't that what you're supposed to do when somebody sees you working?"

She held her head low and weakly replied "Yes...but we're trained to handle public situations realistically."

"Dario, I don't know what the Agency has taught you about the real-world but there was absolutely nothing realistic about what just happened. Girls your age don't toss 130 kilo bullies off of public buses."

"Even if they're trained in judo?" the girl pointed out hopefully. Nicco shook his head. "Okay" she sighed "I promise I won't do anything without your okay anymore. I just want to please you Mr. Corelli, I'm sorry I got carried away."

"You know what you could do to please me?" offered Nicolo, sitting down on a bench and motioning for her to join him, "You could stop calling me _Mister_. Rachel doesn't call her handler _Mister_ Gutierrez...Marisa doesn't call Elio _Mister_ Alboreto...and I didn't hear Henrietta call Giuseppe _Mister_ Croce. Could you please start calling me Nicolo?"

Hesitating to sit down next to him, she answered "You never asked me before."

"Well we're fratello, aren't we? At least for the time being. You wouldn't call your real brother Mister, would you?"

"I don't know if I ever had a real brother" Dario muttered, finally joining him on the bench.

"Well I have a real sister" sighed Nicolo, "older than me. She loved me, I never doubted that, but all the years we spent growing up together she bullied me. Never anything terrible, just the sort of stuff brothers & sisters do. She always had to be on top, always had to be first and best at everything. I loved her all the same but I always dreamed that if I had a younger brother or sister I would treat them differently. We would be a team, not a number one and number two." He filled his lungs with the cool air and said "You know what would make me happy? Maybe _we_ could be like that."

Dario sat silently for almost a full thirty seconds before answering "You know that wouldn't be true. We both have jobs that we have to do for the Agency."

"From what I see the other fratelli have managed to balance their own personal relationships with what the Agency requires" said Nicco. "I'm not so naïve as to think we'll be able to work out a relationship like Alboreto & Marisa have, or Fernando & Rachel have all on our first day, but let's at least agree to be more than just deadly bodyguard and bumbling rookie field agent, okay?" His self-depreciation drew a small laugh from her. "For one, I'll agree to trust your judgment more. You handled that thug on the bus brilliantly...I just got a little freaked out because I didn't know what you were going to do. In exchange, will you be a little more communicative? Not just when you're about to pummel some 130 kilo human bull, but during our so called _normal_ time together too. And please..._please_ tell me when I'm accidentally hitting on a male co-worker who I should recognize."

For the first time Dario broke out into full laughter and gave him a genuine smile. "Agreed, I'll warn you if anyone in the Agency is cross-dressing for a mission."

"That's a start" replied Nicco with a grin.

Dario got up first and asked "So do we get back on the bus or walk to the museum?"

"It's a nice day for a walk, but you're cold," Nicolo pointed out, observing that she was shivering, "your jacket got a hole shot in it yesterday. You need a new one and we just happen to be in front of a department store."

"A really expensive one," mused Dario, "yes I'm a little cold in just this sweater but I think I can hold out until we find a cheaper place."

Nicco waved off her concerns. "The manual says a good part of my expense account goes toward seeing to my cyborg's needs, and I'd say a certain girl who saved the lives of twelve innocent civilians yesterday deserves a stylish coat to replace the one that got shot up in the process."

"Does the manual say all that?" Dario teased, unable to keep her eyes from darting to a very chìc belted jacket in gray cashmere that sat in the display window.

"Your big brother says that" declared Nicolo with as much conviction in his voice as he had been able to muster since his arrival at the Agency. "Now let's go see what they have in your size."

Nicco headed inside through the revolving door with Dario close behind. In her short life she'd never experienced anyone like Nicolo Corelli, nervous, clumsy, helpless as a baby but smarter than anyone she had ever known when it came to the things he loved. Maybe he wasn't a bold & powerful Master like all the other girls could take pride in but Dario felt she had something unique; a handler who really _needed_ her. Dario really wished all that he promised could be true, that he was her new brother for good now and he wouldn't leave her as long as she lived. It was a fantasy that made her warm inside even on such a cold day but fear nagged at her heart and tainted the happy feeling. She could not bear to lose him like she had lost Arturo. It was better to be lonely for the rest of her life than suffer the horrible pain of that loss all over again.

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Over the next three days Nicolo learned that he was not alone in his investigation of the _Assassino D'Essai _case. Hours of his time were spent in evidence reviews, strategy planning and brainstorming sessions with forensic & profiling experts from Public Safety, Section One and AISI, these meetings mostly being held in the office complex directly inside the main gate. The men & women in attendance were the sharpest minds the Italian Intelligence community had to offer, persons whose names he had seen cross his desk countless times as lowly analyst for Public Safety. Now he sat amongst them, ostensibly an equal but in reality anything but. Corelli generally kept his mouth shut during these conferences, speaking up only when directly asked a question...which was not often. At one point the chairman of a meeting mistakenly introduced him as a "_civilian art consultant_" and Nicco did not feel comfortable correcting him.

Nothing ever got resolved at these mind numbing sessions. Corelli got the distinct impression that each agency represented was only presenting enough material to convince the other agencies that they were making progress, without offering up all they knew for fear that a competing office would use their work to make a critical breakthrough and get credit for solving the case. Nicco himself had made so little progress on his own investigation that he sat through the first few meetings in abject terror that he would be called upon; like a schoolboy who had not completed his homework from the previous night (a sensation he had absolutely no actual experience with but had relived in nightmares since his first day of primary school). It soon became apparent though that no one was eagerly awaiting his findings and that he would spend the vast majority of these sessions utterly unnoticed by the others.

In truth, many of the other representatives were well aware that Corelli was Special Ops Section Two's contribution to the assembly and were perfectly happy to see him remain silent. Certainly the darlings of Defense Minister Petris would not be snatching the glory this time. Here for once was an investigation that called for wit and human subtlety, Section Two's multi-billion euro budget and cybernetic super-soldiers would not avail them here. None of this animosity directed at Section Two and himself as their proxy was Nicco aware of though.

Back on Section Two's side of the compound Nicolo felt more welcome but the place had still not lost its surreal quality. Sometimes after his release from a day of meetings that did little more than eat up time and provide a forum for inter-departmental posturing he would walk out to the practice ranges to watch his cyborg train. Quietly watching from afar at the obstacle course or outdoor rifle range proved difficult though as Nicco seemed to be rather popular with the cyborgs, particularly the younger ones who would go out of their way to come over and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything or if they could help him in any way. Nicolo was beginning to understand why cyborgs were not allowed on the viewing platforms or spotting towers...these provided important bastions of adult refuge but even here Nicco could not fully escape the surreal insanity that was Special Operations Section Two.

"Oi, Corelli" called out Brian McDonnell, flanked by Fernando & Jacob Mehrandish. "Heard you had a touch of trouble with the doorman at one of the local clubs."

Still feeling some embarrassment over the incident on the bus Nicolo muttered "Oh, it was nothing. Dario handled the guy, I really had nothing to do with it."

"Well, we payed him a visit" chuckled Fernando.

"You what?"

Mehrandish explained; "After we heard what a prick bastard that guy was we decided to go drinking at _Nova_. Not really our kind of place but we felt it was worth a special trip. The three of us walked right over your doorman...went straight into the club without paying the cover...got piss drunk and paid in ten cent coins...then went into the loo and shot the hell out of all the toilets with that revolver your Dario took off the doorman!"

Staring at them, jaw open in disbelief, Nicco could only mutter "W-why the hell did you do that?"

Fernando shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal and replied casually "Some asshole messed with one of our own. Now he not only has to explain why he allowed us inside but how a gun registered in _his_ name was used to destroy the men's room. Besides, have you ever shot up a row of toilets while you're drunk? Fucking hilarious."

To Nicolo this seemed like a drastic over-reaction to what had been a simple incident on the bus but his three fellow handlers were clearly amused and even proud of their actions. "How did you even know about the mess with that guy on the bus?"

"I was at the armoury when Dario dropped by to turn in the revolver" Jacob informed him. "As there was really no point in keeping a cheap 'Saturday night special' in our inventory Brian here came up with a better use for it."

"Sorry, we'd have brought you along for the fun," explained McDonnell, "but that might have caused problems if our friend the doorman had identified you. But no worries...we took care of things." As Corelli stood dumbstruck the three continued laughing and recounted more humorous anecdotes from the night. Despite all his efforts he felt he would still never get used to this place.

**_Spaghetti Day_**

Amongst the cyborgs, "bomb class" was universally regarded as the most boring chore in all their training. It was supposed to cover both the construction, arming & disarming of explosives, as well as how to deal with unexploded ordnance and improvised explosive devices.

In reality a visit to the bomb-squad bunker entailed three hours of tedium. It was a windowless building that was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, filled with dusty crates that provided innumerable hiding places for spiders & centipedes. The handlers of the four bomb squad cyborgs showed less interest in teaching than they did in their own never-ending card game. Amelia, Bella, Cora & Diana stood around a circular table (identical to the one their handlers' played at), each taking 20 minutes to construct a mock bomb, then on cue they handed it to their left and spent the next 20 minutes attempting to disarm the bomb they had been handed by one of their sisters. Ordinary cyborgs did not participate in this circle...the skills of the four Bomb Squad Girls were so far beyond those of Dario and the others that tackling one of their constructions would have been a futile effort. Therefore, any ordinary cyborg who had the misfortune of being scheduled for "bomb class" (_everyone_ got their turn) stood alone at a bench constructing and disarming their own devices with instruction coming only from a boring, cryptic manual.

After a morning of such wearisome monotony Dario sat down to lunch feeling as worn out as if she had spent hours on the obstacle course. She was in no mood for conversation, but it found her anyway as Triela sat down across the table. "Heya Dario, how's it going today?"

"Bomb class" muttered the brown-haired girl.

Triela cringed and replied "Ouch...commiserations. At least you didn't fall asleep at the bench and miss chow-time. I heard Melanie did that once."

"Easy to do" sighed Dario, not really in the mood for small talk.

The Senior Cyborg did not pick up on her body language though, and cheerfully kept up the conversation. "It's still got to be better than training with your new handler."

That seemed like an odd thing to say; not exactly an insult but certainly not polite in cyborg society. To hear it from the Senior Cyborg genuinely surprised Dario. "I beg your pardon?"

Triela seemed aloofly unaware that she was treading on dangerous ground, her tone remained humorous & congenial. "At least he hasn't been admitted to the hospital as a result of any football games lately." She laughed, expecting Dario to follow suit and added "I bet you're gonna have some stories once this job is over!"

Dario did not laugh. "That was before I was assigned to him."

Between bites Triela replied "Yeah, watching over him probably keeps you on your toes. I know he isn't certified to carry a pistol..."

"That isn't his job" Dario interrupted.

"...but do they at least trust him with an office stapler?"

Triela had expected her joke to draw a least a snicker from her dining companion but what she got was the complete opposite. Dario stood up and flipped her tray, covering the Senior Cyborg in spaghetti & marinara sauce. "What the _fuck_?" snapped the blonde, grabbing her drink and dousing Dario with grape juice. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You wouldn't dare talk about any other cyborg's handler like that" growled Dario, teeth and fists clenched, ready for a fight.

"I was joking!" Triela spat, rising to her feet as she picked spaghetti stands from her hair, "I never said you weren't doing a good job protecting him! Every girl in the dorm knows you got a raw deal...a handler who isn't a real agent."

"You still don't get it!" Dario retorted "I'm gonna make it easy; you keep talking about my handler like that and I'm gonna knock you on your skinny ass!"

By this point Triela knew she should back down and keep the peace but the threat had inflamed a seldom roused temper in her. "You _seriously_ don't want to do this" she growled. The impending fight had drawn the attention of every other cyborg as well as the dining hall staff but no one dared step in to break them up.

Dario snorted in defiance "Oh you think everyone should just back down from you because you're the untouchable Triela? Well I don't give a shit if you're stronger than me _Princess_...that only means we're both going to wind up in the hospital."

"Stand down both of you!" barked an authority laden voice, echoing off the walls like a rifle shot. Both girls turned and began pleading their case to Avise Mancini but the Bersaglieri was in no mood for explanations. "At the position of attention, now!" As quickly as tempers had come to a boil the emotions turned to utter regret and humiliation as the pair snapped to attention, still dripping grape juice and marinara sauce. Stranding ramrod straight and wearing a scowl that might have been chiseled from solid granite Mancini paced back and forth inspecting the scene. "I do not care what words or events precipitated this nonsense, you and your respective handlers may explain that to Commander Croce in exactly one hour. Until then you are to remain in this position at opposite sides of the dining hall until Mr. Corelli and Mr. Hillshire arrive to retrieve you. About-Face! March!" With the two miscreants separated he turned his attention on the cyborgs who had been watching and barked "All of you had such a good time watching the show without doing a thing to stop it...now get this mess cleaned up on the double!" He did not have to speak twice, as every girl within the sound of his voice scrambled to action. Satisfied that his work was complete for the time being Mancini walked to the buffet line, poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe and strode out of the dining hall, leaving silence in his wake.

* * *

A little over an hour later Nicolo Corelli found himself shuffling into the third floor office of Jean Croce, taking up the rear behind Victor Hillshire and their respective cyborg charges. The two girls stood before the Field Commander's desk and Nicco was about to take his place beside Dario when Hillshire caught his arm and motioned for him to take a seat behind the accused.

Croce was already seated when they arrived, with Avise Mancini at his right shoulder, uniformed in full regimental attire capped off by the trademark hat adorned with ostrich plumes dyed glossy black. It was the Bersagliere who spoke first; "All parties being present the complaint shall now be read. In a statement submitted by myself, Maggiore Avise Mancini, on this afternoon it is charged that the Cybernetic Test Subjects Triela; subordinate to Herr Victor Hillshire, and Dario; provisionally subordinate to Signor Nicolo Corelli did engage in conduct inconsistent with standards of good order & discipline by engaging in a _food fight_ during the mid-day meal. It is..."

Before Avise could continue Jean put up his hand and muttered "I think it's safe to skip over a specific reading of offenses Mancini. The two of them are still _covered_ in the evidence." Both girls cringed with abject mortification...Triela's blouse still stained reddish orange, Dario's bright purple. Jean turned the full heat of his attention on the two cyborgs. "I have no idea what the hell was going on inside the heads of you two idiots and I don't care. It's nothing that can't be solved with a sufficient dose of conditioning and that is exactly what you will receive if either of you pull any bullshit like this again. Everyone has a job to do at this Agency...myself, your handlers, Major Mancini and both of you. Instead of doing our jobs we are currently wasting time on _this_ childish nonsense. While your handlers will administer disciple as they see fit rest assured that I will not forget how you have wasted my time today...you will be reminded of this the next time you seek out a special favor, an off-compound pass, an excuse from training or academics, or you ask for a desirable mission."

It all seemed terribly unfair to Nicco. He'd been made aware of the incident a scant fifteen minutes ago; Priscilla had found him in the evidence library, informed him of what had happened and that he was required to fetch Dario and report to the Field Commander in short order. He'd been left with less than five minutes to talk to his young charge about what had happened and she had not been forthcoming with answers. Now his own Dario and the highly respected Triela were being subjected to a humiliating dressing-down without even the opportunity to plead their case. He shifted forward in his seat, screwing up the courage to object but once again he was stopped in his tracks by Hillshire, who placed a restraining hand on his arm and whispered, "Just be patient, it'll be our turn soon enough."

Jean was finishing up his verbal assault; "...both of you are perfectly aware that every member of this organization is expected to do a great deal better than simply meeting minimum standards. For the foreseeable future I will be paying close attention to both of you to ensure that the appropriate effort is being made. You are dismissed...wait at the bottom of the stairs on the second level for your handlers."

"Yes Sir" the pair muttered in weak unison, turning on wobbly knees, both feeling the nauseous conditioning reaction that went along with such a vituperative scolding by a senior Agency figure.

Now the four adults were left alone. Avise did not relax one bit but Jean leaned back in an informal manner and casually tossed a pencil back onto his desk. "Gentlemen, I don't need to tell you, Section Two is no place for that kind of shit. Mancini here tells me those two were about to rip into each other the minute he broke them up. In that respect we got off lucky; a flying tray of spaghetti and glass of grape juice is bad enough...what if they had gotten into a fight out on the range, or in the shoot house? I'm not exaggerating for effect here...it _has_ happened.

"Victor; Triela is our Senior Cyborg, impress upon her that more is expected. I don't know who started the fight but she participated in front of a room full of cyborgs who look up to her. You insist on treating her as a daughter, and I can't argue with the results you get but in this instance you need to send a strong message.

"Corelli, I understand Dario is a difficult case but do not concede to the temptation to go easy on her because she lost her original handler. Your life may depend on her and if you don't keep her at the highest standard possible you're only compromising your own safety as well as that of everyone around you. Look to your fellow handlers if you need advice. That's all I've got, gentlemen."

All of the indignation that had built up inside Nicolo evaporated as he listened to Croce's words...everything the Field Commander said was true. Instead of standing up to object to Jean's harsh objurgation of the cyborgs he found himself unable to reply with anything but a meek "Yes Sir" just as the girls had. Without any further discussion he and Hillshire got up and left to see to their responsibilities, leaving Jean and Avise. The Field Commander turned to look up at Mancini for a few moments before muttering "Will you at least take that ridiculous hat off now?"

"Absolutely not!" replied Avise, snapping his heels together and exiting the office with perfect military bearing & panache.

As he and Victor Hillshire walked out into the hall together Nicco ventured "I'm really sorry this happened, Mr. Hillshire...I've spoken with Triela, she doesn't seem like the type who would have instigated this."

"Triela is an excellent asset and a good kid," grumbled Hillshire, "but I can not lose sight of the fact that she is still a kid. She _will_ screw up now and then. Everything Jean said in there was right. I've made the choice to treat her like a daughter, therefore I must now go act like a father." It was obvious that the German was in no mood to converse, he continued walking toward the stairs even as Nicolo tried to talk.

"Um...speaking of which..." Corelli continued, holding Victor up a bit, "would it be alright if I asked your advice about how to deal with this? You know, like Jean said?"

Hillshire finally stopped. "Keep your voice low...their hearing is unbelievable" he warned motioning toward the staircase, at the bottom of which both of their cyborgs waited. "It really depends on the level of commitment you want to invest. To be perfectly honest you could ignore this whole incident and nobody would say a thing. Even Jean knows you're only here until the _Assassino D'Essai _case is resolved...he doesn't expect you to invest the same level of effort into Dario's training that would be demanded of a regular handler."

"When you put it like that you make it sound like I _owe_ her some severe punishment" replied Corelli.

Hillshire shook his head and clarified "You don't need to bite her head off, it wasn't that big a deal. At the same time, yes...if you're genuinely interested in making an effort with your cyborg you can't let this slide."

"This is all new to me," sighed Nicco, "I have no clue what I'm going to do when I walk down those stairs."

"You don't need to get too creative, just go with what you know" advised the more experienced handler. With that he signaled an end to their conversation by giving his younger colleague a reassuring slap on the shoulder and heading down the stairs. Nicolo took a deep breath and followed suit.

**_Answers_**

The classroom auditorium was silent save for the sound of Dario's pencil scratching back and forth across the paper. _Unruly behavior reflects poorly upon my Agency and myself..._seventy times thus far and one hundred eighty more to go. Taking into consideration his errand charges abilities Nicolo made sure to sentence her to a line which could not be reproduced quickly with the mechanical efficiency he knew she was capable of. He stopped short however, of making Dario alternate between the four languages she studied.

Outside he watched Triela perform her penance...running laps around Section Two's portion of the compound. Hillshire stood by sternly with stopwatch in hand; occasionally calling out to her that the lap did not count when her pace slackened. With little else to do Nicco timed Triela's laps himself and was impressed to note that as her punishment wore on Victor Hillshire constantly adjusted his threshold for what constituted a satisfactory lap, accepting slower and slower times as her strength flagged. He had allowed her to change into running shoes and a pair of sweat pants but by his orders Triela still wore the marinara stained top as she pounded out her circuits of the campus.

Dario had been permitted to change fully, but her own blouse was likely ruined. She sat writing her lines in silence, having accepted her handler's sentence without complaint. Nicco was not sure if he was relieved or disappointed by that. While he was happy to have escaped the possibility of an angry shouting match (with a teenager who still held the potential to tear him limb from limb) Nicolo was still utterly in the dark about what had precipitated the conflict and Dario's silence did nothing to fill in the blanks.

"I don't suppose you feel like telling me what happened," he finally ventured "you know...the reason you and Triela were fighting."

Dario's pencil stopped moving and she answered "Is that an order, Sir?" Another challenge; this time Corelli recognized it. Rather than confront her head on Nicco chose to do things his own way and work around the problem.

"No, it isn't" he told her, "I just noticed that neither of you got any chance to explain yourselves in Jean's office. I though maybe you _would_ like the chance."

"Nothing to explain" sighed the girl, returning to her writing, "it was stupid. I started the fight...I have no excuse."

Nicolo continued to probe, making subtle moves in the hope that he'd reach a point where the truth materialized. "Well if your only intention was to see what the Senior Cyborg looked like covered in spaghetti marinara I'd say your experiment was a success." She did not laugh at his joke...he hadn't really expected her to. "Dario, I seriously doubt that was your intent, but I know this isn't like you either. Something must have happened before the spaghetti started flying but I'm confused...Triela doesn't seem like she's the type to provoke a fight either."

At last a crack appeared. "Yeah, Triela's just goddamn great isn't she..." muttered Dario.

"Just tell me what she said."

"Is that an order?" she repeated.

Nicolo nodded. "The answer is still no...it's a request. _Please_ explain what's going on and maybe I can help. I thought we were going to make a greater effort to be a fratello, right?"

The cyborg put down her pencil and finally opened up a little. "It's just...different with us conditioned girls. There's no question, Triela is top cyborg. She's the best at nearly everything and even if she isn't the absolute best she's close to it. I just get tired of that sometimes...being compared to her by the adults, the other cyborgs won't even consider an idea until they've asked her opinion. When she sat down and started saying things I just got angry and did something stupid."

Corelli asked "What kind of things did she say?"

"Just jokes I guess. Things she wouldn't dare say to any other cyborg. Stuff she wouldn't have dared say about Arturo when he was around."

"Wait..." he interrupted "...you mean things about your handler? Me?" Sheepishly she nodded, picked up her pencil and went straight back to writing. To Nicco, the thought that Triela was poking fun at him behind his back did not seem in any manner odd...people had been making fun of him his entire life and it mattered little to him. What he had not considered was how much it effected Dario. Handlers were more to these girls than supervisors, partners or teachers; they were half of their identity, an indispensable part of their cyborg existence. That Dario had lost hers and then been saddled with one who was little more than an Agency joke must have been a tremendous strain on her. Considering that her reaction was all the more surprising. "So you were _defending me_?"

"I over reacted and screwed everything up" a contrite Dario muttered, but her anger build quickly "Triela was only trying to be friendly. But she shouldn't say those things about anyone's handler! If she'd talked like that about Giuseppe Croce Henrietta would have thrown the entire table at her...any cyborg would have...Triela _knows_ that!"

"Okay, I understand" replied Nicco. A large part of this was directly due to him, how alien he was to this Agency that comprised the girls' entire world. Ironically, spending his life up to this point as a thin-skinned academic had given him a thick enough skin to shrug off the barbs of his more martial colleagues. Up to this point he had not considered what effect this was having on his partner. They returned to silence, Dario's pencil resuming its motion across her paper. "I hate to ask but, does this mean you're going to be engaged in a long term feud with Triela, because that could really make things complicated." He wondered if that would obligate him to feud with Victor Hillshire out of loyalty to his fratello.

"No sir" she replied casually, "Triela & I talked while we were waiting for you and Mr. Hillshire. We pretty much agreed that nobody won the fight, and we were both pretty stupid for acting that way. I'm still angry about some of the things she said but that'll pass...it always does." That was a huge relief to Corelli but he could not help but feel a pang of sympathy for both girls. Built and conditioned to be powerful and prideful warriors they had both been taken down a peg this day; joint losers in the age old battle between youthful rebellion & adult authority.

Nicco cast a glance out the window just in time to see Triela finish her final lap; Hillshire putting his arm around her shoulders as the fratello walked back to the dorm. "Put down your pencil Dario, we're done here" he announced.

She gave him a confused look and replied "But I'm less than half done..."

"You're not off the hook yet" he clarified, "I've just thought of a different task for you."

Nervously the cyborg inquired "What is that?"

"We're going to the indoor range" Corelli told her, "you're going to teach me how to use a firearm."

**_Paper Enemy_**

"This is what I use" said Dario, setting her pistol down on the self in lane #12. She had her Master signed in & outfitted in full gear...ear protection, gloves & safety glasses. For this afternoon session the range was fairly busy with both Section One and Section Two members but they had no trouble finding an open lane. "It's a Glock 19, basically a compact version of the 17. It fires the 9x19mm Parabellum round which means you have to be careful about leaving spent brass laying around...that's a _military use only_ round here in Italy."

"Okay" replied Nicolo, but wasn't sure what to say next.

"Well go ahead and pick it up!"

Corelli gripped the pistol and gave it a good look-over. There were knobs, buttons and catches, none of which he understood. "Isn't there a manual?" he asked. He would have preferred to start with the book.

"I suppose" Dario replied with a shrug, "when Arturo gave it to me there was a box but I don't know where that went. Maybe it was with his stuff. Once you're familiar with safety & the basics you'll pick out your own weapon from the armoury."

"And there'll be a manual?"

"Yes," she groaned, unable to hide an amused smile, "I promise it will come with a book you can read, sir." She pointed at an empty magazine and box of rounds. "Go ahead and load it up.

Carefully selecting a single round he asked "The bullets go into the clip like this, right?"

Dario remained patient. She had woken up in the SWA hospital with all this information inside her head...Mr. Corelli had to learn it step by step. "Rounds, sir, bullets are only the front part that get fired out the barrel...and that's a _magazine_, not a clip. Yes, slide them into position and push them down with your thumb." Once he had successfully filled the spring loaded box magazine with 15 rounds Nicco looked to Dario for his next instructions. "Now insert the magazine up into the grip...you'll feel it click into place when it's seated. Pull the slide back now...that's the whole top of the pistol. This peels the first round off the top of the magazine and puts it in the chamber."

"It feels a lot more balanced now" commented Nicco, "not so nose-heavy anymore."

She nodded and replied "Yes, because you have rounds in the grip now. As you fire that weight is going to empty out and it'll feel nose heavy again. Aim down-range now, flip the safety switch with your thumb and fire when you're ready."

Nicolo took a deep breath, did his best to line up the sights and when he was ready to fire the first shot of his life squeezed the trigger as Dario had shown him. The weapon in his hand gave a crack, muffled by his hearing protection, and jumped a little in his hands. "Did I hit it?" he asked, straining to see a hole in the dark silhouette on his paper target.

Dario did not need to strain, her cyborg eyes could see that he had missed. "Not yet sir...keep firing." Nicco reached up to pull the slide back again but his cyborg stopped him. "What are you doing?"

"Chambering the next round."

"No...sir, you only need to do that once, when you've put a new magazine in" she corrected, "that's why this gun is called an _automatic_."

"Oh...well that _does_ make sense" Nicolo replied. For the first time he heard a few giggles from the adjacent lanes and was aware that he was being watched. Eager to make a good impression (and not embarrass his cyborg instructor in front of her sisters) he concentrated hard, aimed down-range and squeezed off three more rounds. "Is he dead yet?" Corelli joked but Dario only answered "Keep firing until he is."

Nicolo continued to fire, surprised at how much work it was to re-aim the weapon each time and hold its weight out at arms length while still trying to remain relaxed. Dario's Glock finally clicked instead of firing. "Empty" sighed Nicco, turning to set the pistol down but Dario caught him, forcing his arms to keep the weapon pointed toward the target.

"Empty or jammed?" she asked, "There's _two_ reasons a weapon might stop firing."

"I...I don't know" stammered her handler, unsure of what to do next.

"Don't worry sir, it _is_ empty, but don't set it down or point it somewhere dangerous until you know for sure. Make sure to flip the safety back on too." She pushed a button and the paper target came to them on an electric zip-line. "One in the shoulder, one in the neck and one in the kidney" she pointed out.

"That means he's dead, right?" Corelli pointed out, cautiously satisfied with his first results.

His cyborg threw a wet blanket on his good mood; "Him and twelve innocent bystanders." She counted all the holes in the paper target. "You hit your silhouette man three times, and the paper around him six. That means you missed the paper entirely six times."

"That's not very good, is it?" Nicolo muttered.

Dario shrugged her shoulders and muttered "Better than I did my first time. I ran through three magazines before I hit the silhouette...but I had a new mechanical body to get used to when Arturo taught me. Good news is I can see what's causing you problems...you'll catch on quick. Pop that magazine out with that button on the side and let's get re-loaded." This time he did it without instruction, loading all 15 rounds, sliding the magazine up into the grip until it clicked into place, pointing the Glock down range and finally flipping the safety switch off before he pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. With a confused look on his face Nicolo turned to his cyborg.

"You didn't chamber a round sir" groaned Dario, mimicking the motion of pulling the slide back so he would remember.

"Oh, right...that's fairly important" he replied, a bit red faced.

Over the next half hour Nicolo emptied several more magazines with pretty inconsistent results. The number of fatal injuries he inflicted on the black silhouette steadily increased but the number of shots that missed his paper target entirely stayed disappointingly high. Dario would have preferred to work with him until he gained more consistency but time was ticking away...the range was only open for a few more hours and her handler still had to try different weapons. "Sir, I'm going to draw some more pistols from the armoury for you to try...keep practicing with my Glock and if you have any problems I'll be back in just a few minutes."

As Dario walked back into the armoury locker she crossed paths with a much smaller girl in a blue flowered sun dress, one Nicco estimated could not be more than seven years old. He wondered what she was doing there...surely the Agency did not build cyborgs _that_ young. The question was answered though by the weapon she carried from the armoury room. It seemed bigger than she was but the little girl handled it with causal ease. She noticed Nicolo staring and shot him a broad smile before lining up in her lane, slamming a magazine into the weapon and unleashing a salvo of fire from the rifle which drowned out all the other weapons being discharged on the range.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Corelli?" chirped a voice that snuck up on him from behind. Careful to keep his weapon (Dario's actually) pointed down-range Nicolo turned to see Henrietta, whom he had not spoken to since the strange day of his introduction to Special Ops.

"Eh...I could be doing better" he admitted, "but Dario says I'm getting better." He showed Henrietta his pile of spent paper targets.

"Hmmm" the young brunette studied his targets intently, "looks really inconsistent. When Giuse taught me to shoot he had me do it by a rhythm so I'd go through the same steps with every shot."

"You're also holding the weapon too tight" recommended another voice, which turned out to be Marisa.

Henrietta protested the intrusion "I'm helping Mr. Corelli right now!"

"Whoa, I could use all the help I can get" he told them, hoping to avoid dealing with the consequences of a second cyborg fight in less than a day.

"In that case, just fire a couple of magazines for fun" recommended the small girl, who had put down her enormous rifle to come assist. "Don't worry about the target...just pull the trigger until you're used to controlling the gun in your hand."

"That's a good idea, Aishia!" complimented Henrietta.

She grinned and replied "That's how Kenichi showed me when I was first starting."

Rico, the blonde girl who had nearly broken his neck during the football game joined in with her advice "Lean against the wall too, sir. It'll keep you steady, like holding onto the railing when you walk down some stairs." She maneuvered Nicco into position, surprising him with her power.

"Don't lock your knees or elbows" Marisa advised, "all that recoil energy is going to pummel your joints and you humans can't just go to the hospital for replacements like us cyborgs!" That drew a round of laughter from her cohorts.

Arms laden with four more pistols and appropriate ammunition, Dario exited the armoury room just in time to see her Master receiving advice from a crowd of diminutive instructors. Rather than succumbing to her territorial instincts she smiled and stayed back while they worked with him, sharing a few humorous glances with the handlers of the younger girls who looked on in amusement as well.

Once Dario did re-assume control over her handler's training she had him try a SIG-Sauer P239, an Fabrique Nationale Five-SeveN, a Colt 1911 and the ubiquitous Beretta 92. He was able to point out advantages and disadvantages to each, but none in particular stood out as a favorite. "We've got time to try some more" Dario sighed, a little disappointed that none of her choices made the difference and turned her handler into a champion marksman, "maybe you should pick the next couple yourself." She hoped he would not go through every single option in the armoury...all these weapons would need to be cleaned when they were done and if Mr. Corelli did that as well as he shot Dario knew most of the work would fall on _her_ shoulders. "Here's some smaller Beretta's...the 84, the 86...maybe an American Ruger SR would be worth trying. Here's a Smith & Wesson MP..."

"What about this?" Nicco asked, picking out one of his own.

Her eyes grew wide wide surprise "Are you serious, sir? That's a Colt Anaconda. Begging your pardon but...that would rip your arm off."

"Oh, well that's no good then. But what about this style? I haven't shot anything like this yet."

Her eyebrows still raised, Dario tried to explain "Well...we're an anti-terrorist combat unit. Just about everyone here uses automatic pistols...not revolvers."

"I don't think Chief Lorenzo or Jean Croce are likely to toss me into a combat mission anytime soon" Nicco explained, looking around the armoury for more revolvers. "This kind doesn't have a slide to worry about...how do you chamber the first round?"

"You don't sir," explained the cyborg, "assuming you load all six rounds a revolver has one chambered as soon as you load it. All you have to do is manually cock the hammer with your thumb."

"But it's not automatic like those other guns?" he asked "I'll have to do something to advance the next round?"

"No sir, every modern revolver is double-action, which means the trigger pull advances the next round and cocks the hammer again."

Corelli nodded as he handled an Italian Mateba Autorevolver "Well that sounds good. You know that slide gives me trouble. How many times did I forget to chamber the first round, or accidentally eject a round when I forgot I'd done it already?"

Predisposed to automatics as most of the cyborgs were, Dario was not convinced. "But sir, my Glock carries 15 rounds...even more with an oversized magazine. None of those revolvers you're looking at take more than six. Furthermore they take too much time to re-load...once you pop a new magazine into an automatic it's ready to go."

"Dario, you're thinking about _combat_ again" he admonished "I'm an investigator...although so far not a very successful one. The revolver sounds easier, and if I ever have cause to use a weapon _easy_ is what I'll need." He could tell she really didn't like the idea but Nicco stood up for himself and insisted "I should at least give a revolver a try...if I don't like it we can go back to automatics."

Grudgingly, she conceded. "Alright, but if you _insist_ take this one. It's a Taurus 608 SS4 from Brazil...it fires the .357 Magnum cartridge."

"Okay, but why is this one better than the others?" Corelli asked, accepting the pistol from his cyborg.

"Because it carries eight rounds instead of only six" groaned the girl, "you might need those extra two."

Even as his cyborg made a crack about about his lackluster marksmanship Nicco smiled. They had come a long way since their first meeting in the Chief's office, and Corelli felt he was finally gaining a toe-hold in her world. Despite the inauspicious circumstances he would go to bed that night pleased with the knowledge that they'd worked together & his young charge had event stood up for him today, even at the peril of a fight with the mighty Triela.

To her chagrin Nicolo's shooting _did_ improve with the revolver. Free of worries about magazines, slides and whether or not he had a round chambered the handler could finally take to heart all the advice he had gotten that day. By 4:45pm when the PA system announced that the range was closing Corelli was hitting the silhouette with consistency, landing an average five out of his eight bullets on his paper adversary. That was good enough to qualify so Dario confidently signed her Master up to take his test with Amadeo the next morning.

"Looks like a revolver was the right choice for me" commented Nicco as the pair left the range along with the rest of their Agency colleagues, "and I'll be even better tomorrow morning once I've given the manual a good read-through tonight."

"I still think it's weird" Dario muttered, rolling her eyes, but she still smiled with satisfaction, knowing her handler had taken one more step toward becoming a _real handler_ in the eyes of her peers. _He might be a weirdo_ she thought, _but he's my weirdo_. Together they walked to the dining hall where Dario sat proudly beside her partner, joined by many of her cyborg-sisters eager to compliment Mr. Corelli on his range session and tell stories of their own first time using a pistol. To the great relief of all, no pasta products became airborne during this meal.

**END OF CHAPTER SIX**


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